


Medicine

by SophiaSoames



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bi-Sexual Harry, Explicit Sexual Content, Graphic descriptions of sexual interactions from the outset, Guaranteed HEA, M/M, NO M/F interaction, Reception Manager Louis, Restauranteur Harry, enemy to lovers, very very slight non-con undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 03:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14487780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/SophiaSoames
Summary: I've had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted.Louis Tomlinson doesn't do feelings. He doesn't do relationships. And when he has an itch to scratch there are always clubs and hook ups. Quick dirty encounters in dark places that feed the need that brews in the pit in his stomach. He works every hour of the day as the Front Office manager or the Clouds Westminster hotel in central London. He's a good boss, and he knows his shit.Then that asshat Styles swans in like he owns the bloody place and Louis's carefully managed world starts to fall apart.Harry Styles needs. He's impulsive and stupid and childish and probably the last person in the world who should be allowed to run the Food and Beverage department at the Clouds Westminster, however many brilliant ideas he has and seems to manage to miraculously pull off. He needs. And he needs Louis Tomlinson.It's a match made in hell. A recipe for disaster. There will be a bloodbath one day. They all know. Everyone knows.





	1. Prologue ‘’This, this is never happening again. Is that clear?’’

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vintagevinyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagevinyl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Taste](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13835862) by [MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/MermaidsandMermen). 



> I've had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted.  
> Yeah, Harry. Me too. Me too. 
> 
> Welcome to Medicine, set in the crazy world of the Clouds Hotel chain in Central London.
> 
> A huge thank you to @Julieseven who betaed the original version alongside @pagnilagni and @evak4ever who cheerled the early drafts of this. 
> 
> Massive thanks to @vintagevinyl , aka @tomlinshires on Tumbr who worked on the gorgeous artwork that will be posted in the relevant chapter. It's beautiful and I couldn't have asked for a better artist! Thank you! 
> 
> I have written a version of this for the SKAM fandom under my other pseud which is linked above.
> 
> All photos are lifted from Pinterest and are not mine. Credit to the owners.
> 
> Come and yell at me on Social media. @sophiasoames on all platforms. Be kind. Be nice. Always.

**_1 PROLOGUE January ‘’ Medicine’’ Nightclub London_ **

**_‘’This, this is never happening again. Is that clear?’’_ **

 

 

The thump of the bass is so loud that my brain feels like it’s vibrating inside my skull. My whole body is moving with the beat of the music but I don’t really dance. I don’t let go. I am always in control and that is how I fucking like it these days. Not that I go out a lot but sometimes I have an itch to scratch, and tonight. Well let’s just say the itch is freaking me out a bit.

I have been watching him for a while now, grinding his hips down on the dancefloor. He gets a lot of attention, not that that surprises me. Not a bit. He is glorious in his… well I can barely find the words to describe him. He is golden. Beautiful. Completely lost in himself as people around him are letting their hands wander freely over his body.

  
  


There is a man, olive skin, with a wife beater tank showing great shoulders and strong arms. He has been behind him for quite a while now, grinding his crotch against his back with his eyes closed. Hands moving occasionally to stroke the skin that glitters with sweat in the moving lights. Then the olive-skinned man turns around and someone is kissing him. I hadn’t noticed this other guy before, a redhead slim dude, but they are making out, all arms and tongues and hips and probably moans if the music wasn’t so loud.

  
  


I grab my crotch and try to get myself under control. Mr Olive skin leans his head back in lust, so fucking sexy, whilst that redhead bloke is busy licking his neck.

And then  _ he _ is right there. Leaning over and locking lips with the redhead over Mr Olive-skin’s shoulder.

  
  


That’s what is great about going to clubs like ‘’Medicine’’. Nobody talks here, it’s all about lust. Pure and raw lust. It’s all about finding someone to fuck. Someone to fuck you so you can forget about the real world for a little while. It’s pure escapism. No rules, no control. Just lust sweat and the salty taste on your tongue from a stranger’s skin, with the added bonus of the the inevitable release before you shamefully wipe yourself down and move on.

 

The club hides all kinds of dark corners with quirky little alcoves and hidden corridors. Toilets with dim lighting where you can barely see your hands, yet the purple lighting flickers over bare skin and people do the deed. A lot. Fuck going for a wee, that’s not why people come here.

  
  


Up here on the balconies, people are watching the bodies grinding on the dancefloor below. Up here you are close, not close enough, but any closer and you would be halfway to getting off. Everyone’s eyes are firmly fixed on the crowd below, bodies leaning over the railings transfixed by the action, faces flushed, skin taught and breaths held tight. Nobody cares, everyone is at it.

  
  


The golden one is still dancing, now plastered across Mr Olive-skin’s back, still tongue fucking the redhead guy and I think this is the time to get to work. Because I came here with a mission.

You see I know the guy down there, and I only came here tonight to finally, once and for all scratch that fucking annoying itch. It’s time. It’s time to move on. Have him and have my way with him and then I can let it all go. For once and all.

  
  


I overheard him talk to some of the guys at work, and they mentioned coming here tonight. Not that I have noticed any of the others, I have had my eyes on my prize all night. He is down there, and by the way he’s closing in on Mr Olive, I can tell he is in for the final kill. I can taste him being horny from here. I can tell from how he has slowed down, how his hands are antsy, trying to touch more than he can reach. I don’t think he will reject me once I have him where I want him to be.

  
  


I drain the last of my drink, slamming the empty glass back down on the table.

‘’You leaving?’’ A voice shouts in my ear and there is a hand grasping my wrist.

I don’t even turn to look at him, just remove his hand with a shrug, and shout ‘’Sorry mate, another time’’ over my shoulder. Normally I would have looked. And if he looked like he would let me I would have lingered. Instead I walk firmly down the stairs and confidently start to move in between the mass of bodies.

  
  


They have moved almost over to the back wall now which is perfect, just where I need him. In the dark corners where nobody is looking and no one can hear you scream. Mainly because everyone in those corners are busy fucking anyway.

  
  


The blonde streaks in his dark auburn hair glitter every time the strobe lighting hits his face, the sweat on his neck almost blinding with the effects pulsing over the crowd. He has his eyes closed, body still swaying to the music, lost in whatever daydream he is in. Another lost soul in the mass of bodies moving to the beat.

  
  


He doesn’t notice me moving in on him, or the slight shake in my hand when I finally grab his hips from behind in a firm hold and turn him towards the wall. Not that Mr Olive notices, as someone, who I assume is the redhead dude is on his knees slammed up against the wall whilst Mr Olive’s cock is sinking in and out of his willing mouth. No,  _ my _ man is completely oblivious until I slam his chest against the wall and pin his head to the side with my hand.

‘’Are you up for it?’’ I snarl in his ear. This isn’t the time or place for romance. Not like it’s something for me anyway:  I just don’t do romance. I don’t sweet talk. There is no need for it in a club like this where everyone is here for the same reason. It’s small enough to be intimate. Loud enough for people not to care. Dark enough that no one can ever be sure what they saw.

He is not fighting the grip on his neck. He doesn’t arch back when I snake my hand around his front and loosen his belt. He just drops his head to the side when I let my mouth latch onto his neck and suck the first little bruise into his skin.

  
  


He tastes delicious, I knew he would. This annoying fucktard of a man who has annoyed the shit out of me for as long as I can remember. The anger is brewing in my chest again, and I am a little more forceful than I should. Dragging his jeans down with one foul rip. Dirty bastard. He has come prepared. No underwear. I like him already. Well I don’t.

  
  


My hand is firmly on his hip keeping him pinned against the wall, yet he arches his bum out when my hand comes around his front, so I can get access. I stroke his cock, warm, hard and erect. He is a lovely size, fitting perfectly in my hand. Thick and a little wet at the tip. I make sure I gather it up on my finger and let my hand move up over his chest so I can taste him. Lick the sweet musky precome off my sticky digit whilst my head keeps his head pinned to the other side.

  
  


I doubt he knows it’s me. His eyes are still closed, lost in his own head, just the way I like it. Anonymous hot and dirty, I think to myself as I fish the condom out of my pocket and free my cock that was getting uncomfortably strangled in my jeans. Not that I judge him for giving himself away so easily, I have done it myself. More times than I can remember. Hot fast dirty hook-ups are my thing, no talking. No responsibility with anyone else’s heart. I don’t do feelings of any kind.

  
  


The way his body moves beneath me is doing all kinds of things to me. My cock is rock hard, making grinding against him almost panicked in my frenzy to get the condom on. I have a packet of lube between my teeth. One hand firmly on his back keeping him in the darkness against the wall, and the other sheathing my now condom clad cock in lube.

  
  


He is panting. The music too loud so I can’t hear it but I can feel it. Feel his body almost as frantic as mine, asking for it. He’s jerking his hips against the wall, trying to get some friction for himself. His hand moving erratically trying to get down there where he needs it, so he can jerk himself off.

  
  


I catch it in time though, and slam it back against the wall which makes him whine and jerk even more. And just the thought of him being so lost and horny is enough to make me want to come there and then, painting his body with my jizz right here in front of everyone. I won’t last much longer. Not with how desperate he is. Not with the taste of his skin as I nuzzle into his neck. The sweat in his hair brushing my face. The hitched breathing escaping his mouth. I want to kiss him. But not yet. Not until I’m inside him.

  
  


My finger is already firmly wedged between his cheeks, tapping at his arse, slick with lube, circling roughly around his hole. His opening is clenching around the tip of my slick digit. Opening and closing. His chest rising and falling far too fast whilst my body is pressing him against the wall. My mouth sucking his skin. My nose stroking his cheek. He’s so fucking pretty. So perfect in his imperfect self.

  
  


His earlobe is in my mouth, the sharp taste of his sweat like nectar on my tongue. I can hear him make noises when my finger slides inside of him. All the way in, pushing through the ring of muscle. I am a bit of a bastard, I know. I like it hard. Rough and fast. And he is not pushing me away, instead he has grabbed my hand, the one that was up around his neck, and has dragged it down around him so he can kiss my fingertips. Lick at them. Sucking the tip of my index finger into his mouth as I breach his arse with two fingers. Prodding and moving, whilst I am scissoring him loose to the heavy beat of the music around us.

  
  


He takes my fingers in his mouth, two of them. As far as he can take them down the back of his throat whilst my other hand is fucking his arse. My fingers moving in and out, my head hanging clumsily over his shoulder whilst his mouth is fucking my fingers and my cock is rutting desperately against the bare skin of his hip. Whilst I wouldn’t normally take my time like this, I just can’t stop myself. I am enjoying this far too much and not in the way I thought. Because he is just far too tempting. Too much, moving his body against mine. Making me shiver and twitch where I would usually just be cold and methodical.

  
  


I slam his shoulder back against the wall, twisting his face towards me, capturing his mouth with my own. There is this angry growl escaping out of my mouth as my fingers slide out of him and aim my cock towards his opening. I am losing my shit, feeling dizzy from the sensations swirling around my body. I’m not usually like this, and I definitely don’t kiss. I never liked it. Never enjoyed the sensation of being so close to someone else. But somehow this is not as easy as I thought it would be.

  
  


I thought I could just fuck him and still keep in control. Instead I am struggling not to let go. I could come from just the smell of him lingering on my fingers. From knowing my hand is wet from his mouth. I could come simply from the taste of his tongue against mine, the softness of his lips and the staggered breaths escaping his throat as I slam my cock into him.

  
  


I don’t last long, and I knew I wouldn’t. A few desperate thrusts into his warmth and I am roaring with release against his teeth. My mouth on his lips. His tongue down my throat. My hand finding his and his cock thrusting through our joint fingers as he lets himself release. His whole body shuddering against my chest as we smear his come all over the wall in front of us in frantic movements and jerked muscle spasms as our bodies struggle to come back down.

  
  


I don’t know what I was expecting. I thought I could do this. Just pull my jeans back up and throw the condom somewhere to be someone else’s concern. Instead I am leaning against him and letting myself feel. Thinking that this might have been a mistake. A fucking huge mistake.

I don’t get to finish that thought as he pushes off the wall and drags his jeans back up. He swings around before I can stop him and grabs the collar of my shirt fisting the fabric into his grip against my neck.

  
  


‘’This. This is never happening again. Is that clear?’’ He shouts. ‘’Never again Louis.’’

  
  


Then Harry Styles lets me go. Slams the palm of his hand on my chest and gives me a firm push.

  
  


‘’Never. Again’’ He snarls as he walks off. Leaving me with my jeans undone and my jaw hanging slack.

  
  


****

 


	2. The first time it happened, I knew I was in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post all chapters of this today. Enjoy!

**_The first time it happened, I knew I was in trouble._ **

**HARRY**

 

 

The first time it happened, I knew I was in trouble.

  
  


I knew who Louis Tomlinson was before I even set foot in the Clouds Westminster hotel. His reputation was spread far and wide in the company. If you got called in for a meeting with your manager and found Tomlinson leaning against the back wall in the room, you might as well go and pack your shit and get out.

  
  


He was known to be hard as nails. Shit hot on Union rules. Shit hot on any rule in fact, so if he was sitting in on a meeting it basically meant you stood no fucking chance. Well, that’s what they all said. The other staff. The managers. Mr Azoff who was the current general Manager at the Clouds Hotel Thameside, spoke about him all the time, checking up on things and asking advice. From bloody Tomlinson.

  
  


So, you can easily say that I had my opinion on him all set before I even met him. Which I did a lot now that I was officially in charge of Food and Beverage at the Clouds Westminster.

  
  


I had the job I always wanted. It’s basically the same job that I did at the Thameside, being in charge of the overall Restaurant and Bar department of the hotel, but whilst the Thameside Hotel was a mess of a shithole, falling apart at the seams and in need of basically tearing down and starting again, their F&B department was now shit hot and making a decent profit thanks to myself, the opening of ‘’Salt’’ ( their now awesome in-house award winning eatery), my ace staff and my promotion to the top three years ago. I still always wanted to head downtown to the Westminster, the Queen of the portfolio. The glossy new-build with the perfect location and the views. And the shitty F&B department that I had had my eye on for years.

  
  


I knew I could do the job in my sleep, but I had to do better. I had never been someone who settled for mediocre, and I fully intended to put my mark on the London culinary map. 

  
  


Mitch, my sous-chef had already agreed to come with me, leaving Xander in charge of the Thameside kitchen. I knew he could manage, but Mitch needed the push, he needed to manage on his own and fuck me he has proved his worth. I also dragged Tess along to run things smoothly. Not only did I need people I could trust, I also need them to look out for me. I am no good on my own, I have always needed my friends around me to function.  I would have liked to bring a few more people with me, but Sam had to stay behind to take over after Tess. So, in the end we left, Myself, Tess, Mitch, Adam, Claire and Sarah, and the Clouds Thameside has recovered well. 

And I was prancing around like a proud mother hen at the Clouds Westminster which had become the new hot hip place to eat thanks to my new and improved concept, rebranding their run down pub as ‘’Appetite’’, pushing the LBGTQ friendly concept, the gender neutral atmosphere and of course the locally sourced simplified home cooked menu. Whilst the management had been sceptical at first, the steady pound signs were soon on my side and we were pretty much the darling of the cash rich local clientele, bringing in big accounts simply on our reputation of not giving a fuck about the rules of the culinary world. Because we didn’t. 

The old-fashioned idea of giving guests what they would expect from a mid-range business hotel had no place in my establishment. There were no soggy burgers or late-night pizza being microwaved up in my kitchen. Instead we focused on flavours and local cuisine, vegetables in season and mouth-watering quirky meals that changed weekly to create delightful variety for our regular guests. The staff were handpicked for their sassy attitude, and tested on their quick thinking and aptitude for treating every customer like a long lost friend. I didn’t skimp on my standards, and I had assembled an ace team under my feet. 

 

Making friends had always come easy to me and the team at the Clouds Westminster had luckily welcomed me with open arms. I came with a bit of a reputation as well, as I was apparently known to be shit hot on the food side, treat my staff well, and run a tight ship. If the rumours were true I was also a good wingman, off my head with crazy ideas, and the man to party with. Apparently. So, party we did.

  
  


Monday nights in London is hospitality night when most staff are off, so every Monday became party night where we clubbed. We partied. We socialized. And my obsession with Tomlinson just grew.

  
  


Because whilst he was clearly an arsehole, people liked him and dragged him along wherever we went. He would just stand there and stare at me. Sigh louder than the rest when I would push my groundbreaking ideas (I did agree that naming the bar ‘’Wasted’’ didn’t quite suit our business image, but I had never been the man with the dull and boring concepts, and I wasn't going to start now). 

 

He never spoke to me, apart from random snyde remarks and the trademark eye rolls he seemed to have perfected around me. His thick dark hair always mess of natural perfection, his lips always pursed in a tight scowl, and firm muscles showing through the fitted shirts he seemed to prefer. I had still caught him staring at me quite a few times during nights out, just a glance and then he would take a swig of his bottle and look away. I knew he disliked me. I mean fuck that, he bloody hated me for some reason I didn’t fully understand.

  
  


The guy had worked himself up from the ground, gaining experience on the back of some posh Hotel Management degree, and had some posh diploma from having studied in Switzerland. He always looked immaculate, in his posh suits and tie combos, whilst I was more than happy to slum it in a shirt and black jeans. I heard whispers that he had wanted the F&B gig, but I didn’t get that. He was the Front of House manager, which held much more clout in the management world than the dude who fiddled around with Room Service yields and made sure the Breakfast service made a profit.

 

He still hated me.

  
  


I knew he was gay. We didn’t hold back with the gossip in the Clouds hotel world so we knew most things about everyone. They all knew I was an equal opportunities kind of guy, swinging freely from having a hot girlfriend to being the man-whore of the moment when I felt the need. The current squeeze was a female.

  
  


Camille was a super-hot Air France flight attendant who frequently stayed with us, and whilst naughty, meaning me, I had started to take advantage. Not that it would last. I knew my limits, and her nagging tone of voice on the phone had started to put me on edge.  I didn’t do relationships. I certainly didn’t do long term. It had been fun but this thing, whatever it was, was fizzling out fast and I wasn’t hanging my head over it. Nope. Not at all.

  
  


Instead I found myself staring back at him across the lobby floor, his hair always on the edge of  needing a trim. His angular face that would light up in a rare smile when dealing with a particularly pleasant guest. His shoulders in that well-cut suit. His lips that were just made for, well. Ahem. Activities between the sheets. Preferably those kinds of activities where he would be on his knees. With my cock in his mouth. Well the thought of that had me coming into my hands more nights than not these days.

  
  


I wanted him. Yet I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up whenever he was in the room. His voice grated on my nerves. His pompous PowerPoint presentations in the weekly meetings made me roll my eyes and sigh a little too loudly.

  
  


Which made him stare at me with murder in his eyes. Yup the feeling was mutual.

  
  


Then I would do my presentation, throwing out my numbers to the room from the top of my head because I was a cocky confident fucker. And he would just cross his arms over his chest and bang his head against the back wall of the room. That was just the way we rolled.

  
  


We weren’t subtle. Everyone knew. Don’t leave Styles and Tomlinson alone in the same room. There will be a bloodbath. They all knew.

  
  


I had been the last one to leave the room that Friday morning, hanging back taking a call on the company mobile I carried. I remember slamming the door to the meeting room shut behind me, grabbing the last biscuit off the discarded tray by the coffee pots. And there he was, stopping dead in his tracks in the corridor as soon as he saw me.

  
  


‘’Styles’’ he nodded, and turned his hips like he was going to squeeze past me.

  
  


Which of course being the fucktard that I am I wouldn’t let him. You see this was just too tempting. Fucking with him a little when I had the chance, with no witnesses to rein me in.

  
  


It had been a stupid idea. An imbecile moment. I shouldn’t have even gone there.

I still did it. I put my arm up against the wall and stopped him in his tracks.

  
  


‘’What have I ever done to you Tomlinson?’’ I snarled.

  
  


His breath caught in his throat and for a second or two he didn’t know what to do. Where to look. Whether to play along or to lash out and punch me in the face.

  
  


I could see the struggle. I could see him fight with himself trying to control the anger brewing inside of him.

  
  


And for that fraction of a second, I saw fear. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the idea that he was scared of me. I didn’t like this at all. So, I did the most idiotic thing.

  
  


I smashed my mouth on his and kissed the fucker. Then I turned my back on him and walked away.

 


	3. ’What the hell did the two of you ever do to each other?’’

**_3_** **_‘’What the hell did the two of you ever do to each other?’’_**

**_LOUIS_ **

  
  


He drove me mad most days for no reason at all. He was always polite, nodding at me in the corridors and speaking to me with that annoying polite respect. Called me ‘’Tomlinson’’ with that tiny snarl in his voice. Like he was spitting my name out between his teeth.

  
  


I knew his kind, the ones that are born with a silver spoon in their mouth. I couldn’t see Styles ever having struggled. He would have grown up in a loving home, pushed along by his cheerful supportive parents. Slipped from job to job like he had tripped on a banana peel.

  
  


Kids like him got promoted through their charm and good looks whilst the rest of the world worked like idiots to climb the ladder. I knew. I had worked hard for what I had and then idiots like him just waltz into the management jobs with a pat on the back like it’s nothing. And Styles was most definitely all about good looks and charm.

  
  


He was tall and handsome. Soft almost angelic features framing his pale skin, with piercing eyes and a razor-sharp jawline framed by a ridiculous mop of golden brown hair. Then he would break out that all-consuming dimpled smile of his and have people eating out of the palm of his hand. Just like that.

  
  


And then of course, there was the ridiculous fact that the man couldn’t dress himself to save his life. Loud colourful flamboyant frilly shirts teamed with sharp jeans and a wild selection of floral suits had made their appearance across the lobby in the Clouds Westminster’s flagship restaurant. The man didn’t seem to own a normal suit. Instead he made the rest of us look like fools as he got away with dressing like a clown. Like there wasn’t a bunch of hard working people who deserved that job more than him.

  
  


There had been 3 in-house applications for his job. 3 extremely capable well trained knowledgeable people, yet they had handed him the job. I had vetoed it. They had overruled me. Said the kid had clout and knew what he was doing, and damn him. Damn, damn him had turned the Thameside Hotel F&B on its head with his frankly ridiculous ideas. Over the top blatantly ridiculous local produced gourmet pub food for the masses may work in independent settings, but we were a freaking business hotel. People wanted quick burgers. An omelette and fries. Yet Styles had somehow succeeded with his ridiculous business plan and the Thameside ‘’Salt’’ venue had become a surprising success under his guidance.

  
  


And now he was doing the same fucking thing here, naming our perfectly good pub ‘’Appetite’’ and frankly turning the place into a circus. A slick clean looking circus, but anyway. It made me cringe in it’s nauseating friendly happiness inducing fucking flair.

  
  


He was an idiot. He had his chefs cook up his stupid fancy culinary ideas and he would drop off plates of food for us in reception to try. He would stand there with a tray of samples, charming the staff behind the reception desk with talk of Scandinavian chanterelles vs English mushrooms and cheeses from some farm in  Kent, whilst I would cringe and hide in the back wishing he would just fuck off and leave me alone.

  
  


He never did. There was always a plate on the side of my desk. Scoops of home made clotted cream ice-cream drenched in his trademark caramel reduction being left when I was working the late shift at the weekend. He would try to feed me when I was on duty through the night, always calling me before the kitchen closed to offer a meal. I always refused and sat in my office with a sandwich and a bag of crisps wishing I wasn’t such an arrogant twat.

  
  


Because I was. I am.

I have the memory of an elephant, and I am stubborn as an old mule.

  
  


I’m a good boss. I look after my own, and I hope I am fair and honest. If you fuck with me you regret it. My staff all knew that, and they were loyal hardworking people. Even the oldies who had looked at me with suspicion and disgust as I rose through the ranks, had shook my hand when I took over Front of House a few years back. They knew who I was. Who they were dealing with, and they had my respect, as I had theirs.

  
  


I wasn’t going to hang around anyway, I was going to move around the hotel, learn everything I could and my big master plan was to become General Manager of my own property by the time I was 30. I was 29. Fucking 29.

  
  


It had been a normal day, a normal evening. I had been having a fucking normal dinner, with some kind of ridiculous discussion going on in the staff canteen, where I was squeezed in between Payne, our head of sales, and Horan from IT, and Bleta and Eleanor from Reception and we were all discussing age. Turns out we were all about to turn 30. Until Bloody Styles plonked his skinny arse down at the table and butted into the conversation. The kid. The bloody kid turns out to be 25. Talk about ruining the mood. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, I mean I knew I was being childish and ridiculous pursuing this silly behaviour. This pretence of being mortal enemies.

  
  


Everyone had laughed as I threw my tray on the stewarding rack and walked off. Everyone shook their heads. Except Styles who went quiet and stuffed some overcooked ravioli in his mouth.

  
  


‘’What the hell did the two of you ever do to each other?’’ I could hear Eleanor laugh as I walked down the corridor. I didn’t stay behind to hear Styles’s reply. Instead I walked down to the men’s changing rooms and locked myself in the toilet. Washed my face and stood there leaning on the sink looking myself in the eye in the mirror and wondering what the hell had happened to my life. How I had sunk this low.

  
  


I should be professional and deal with my colleagues in a supportive and friendly manner. I should encourage cooperation between departments. I should make an appointment with Styles and hash out a plan to promote our inhouse F&B to our corporate clients. We had severely neglected corporate policy by ignoring any attempt to work together. We had simply silently agreed not to.

  
  


It had to end. This childish feud, whatever it was should be axed and buried. Now.

  
  


I decided to talk to him. Sit him down and hash it out. I had it all ready in my head, and I was ready to go seek him out and lay it all on the table.

  
  


Instead I stepped out of the toilet to find him waiting for me outside, leaning casually against a row of lockers with his arms crossed over the frilly shirt covering his chest.

  
  


He glared at me.

  
  


I laughed in his face.

  
  


He took one step towards me.

  
  


And I. I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what came over me, just that I saw red and. And.

  
  


I lunged at him grabbing his head behind his neck and took his mouth with mine. Pressed our lips together with such force that I actually scared myself a little.

  
  


He moaned into my mouth and his hands where fisting the sides of my jacket. I could feel his fingers gripping my hips. His hands moving up under my jacket, stroking the shirt on my back in firm strong strokes as his tongue pressed in between my lips.

  
  


I should have stopped it there. I should have pushed him away.

  
  


I didn’t. Because I am an idiot. Because I think I wanted it. Because I think I always had.

  
  


I let him push me back inside the toilet and it was my fingers slamming the lock shut behind us. It was my fingers on his belt, whilst his hands were ripping my shirt from my trousers, his fingers on my bare skin under my shirt.

  
  


‘’Fuck, Tomlinson,’’ he hissed as he came up for breath. His forehead against mine, our noses touching. Our breaths mingling as I gave his jeans a firm tug. His briefs came down in the same movement, my nails scratching his skin with the force. He whinged into my mouth. I silenced him in another assault on his lips.

  
  


I couldn’t stop myself. He made no attempt to pull away.

  
  


He slammed me against the opposite wall and pressed his chest against mine. His lips kissing down my neck and his fingers working the buttons on my shirt as his trail of kisses moved down towards my groin.

‘’I want to taste you,’’ I whispered.  I was lost in my head. I no longer knew what the hell was going on.

  
  


‘’Wait your turn,’’ he hissed back as he let my trousers drop to the floor and my hand flew up to cover my mouth as he licked up my cock. Just like that I was exposed and helpless and being blown apart by the man I apparently couldn’t resist. The man who I disliked to the point of not doing my job properly. The man I couldn’t stand.

  
  


I closed my eyes and bit down on my hand to stop myself screaming out in frustration. I still slapped my arm against the toilet wall. Banged my head against the hard tiles in agony as his tongue teased the slit of my cock. Looked down in distress at myself, leaking shamelessly as he sucked my ball into his mouth. His tongue teasing the skin underneath my sack. His eyes closed and his voice humming as he swallowed me down.

  
  


My fingers found his hair, tangling in the softness of his long curls. His hands busy kneading my bare arse as he bobbed up and down, letting me use his mouth. Fucking into him as his eyes watered and his fingers shook against my skin.

  
  


He started to jerk himself off as I started to lose it. I know he could tell. I couldn’t stay quiet. He couldn’t stay still. I pulled out of his mouth at the last moment, letting myself spill all over his face.

  
  


I didn’t dare to let my gaze linger on what I had done. I couldn’t look at him. He was too beautiful. His eyes still closed, his mouth twisted, his teeth biting his lip as his hand was flying over his length throughout those last few seconds of delicious pain before his orgasm claimed him.

  
  


I had painted his face. He painted the crumpled heap formerly known as my trousers, that were pooled around my feet in front of him. Stripes of come landing on the fabric. And all I could do was stroke his hair as my breath steadied and his head rested against my naked thigh.

  
  


We stood like that for what seemed like hours. Yet it can only have been minutes before he stood up and turned away from me as he fastened his jeans around his waist. Tucked his shirt inside his trousers and washed his hands in the sink. Bent down and let the water wash away every trace of me from his face. Combed his wet fingers through his hair and refused to meet my eye in the mirror.

  
  


He walked out the door and left me standing there, with my shirt wide open and my softening cock on display.

  
  


I should have laughed as he left. Instead I felt like my heart was breaking into a million pieces.

  
  


What the hell was wrong with me.

 


	4. Out of control

**_Out of control_ **

**_HARRY_ **

  
  


We had avoided each other for weeks after that evening. I turned around in the corridor if I spotted him coming towards me. He shut the door if I walked past his office. I sent my staff to relay anything he needed to know, and he never set foot past the entrance to the restaurant area if I was on duty.

  
  


Our little impromptu system worked well. There were grumbles from the sales staff that we needed to have meetings. There were promotions we should have figured out, yet the sales department took over and handled what needed to be done, even though I felt out of the loop and out of control not having the final say in what was done.

  
  


I didn’t like not having total control, it rocked me off my routine. I hated not knowing exactly what was going on. I hated Tomlinson for rocking my world off it’s well practiced axis.

  
  


I dug out the most colourful shirts in my wardrobe, trying to lift my mood. Tried to make the world a happier prettier place by wearing floral loud prints and shiny coloured clothing. I still felt like I wanted to cry.

  
  


I hooked up with someone in a club. It barely soothed the needs in me, and left me empty and sore.

  
  


I rang an ex in desperation, hoping to at least get to wake up with a warm body in my bed. Skin against my back to soothe the growing panic in my chest. She told me I was sweet to ask but that her fiancée might disapprove.

  
  


I needed. I felt alone. I felt out of control. It wasn’t good. It never ended well.

  
  


Winter rolled in from the sea and the yearly storm warning made us all sigh with inconvenience rather than fear. It was a Sunday Evening, the current weather system was apparently called ‘’Storm Hershel’’, and we were inconveniently full to the brim, hosting not only one but two conventions. There was a concert on at the O2 Arena and the trains were cancelling faster than we could say ‘’Sorry we are full’’ to the walk-in’s off the street. And the rain continued to fall as than the doormen worked tirelessly trying to keep the water it out of the way. The wind howled through the automatic doors. I shivered in my thin silky shirt and wished I had brought a jumper.

  
  


By nine o’clock we closed the doors and started directing the last few incoming guests through the side entrance, the wind was just too strong and the water building up thick and fast on the pavement outside. The bar upstairs sent home their staff leaving just Claire, the manager on duty up there. She said she had already cleared staying the night with Tomlinson, and that she would be down to open the Club lounge breakfast room in the morning. There was no way we would get the staff in with this weather having shut down the tube due to flooding and the buses running on a skeleton schedule.

I sent most of my staff home. Closed the bar down early which left me with the bare minimum of people left on duty.

  
  


I had to go see him. It was just fucking bad luck it was him. Him and me. Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

I approached him with caution, holding my hands up in defeat as I walked up towards the reception desk where he stood, paperwork in hand and a worried look on his face.

  
  


‘’How many staff have you got?’’ He said. His voice was calm.

  
  


‘’12 left. 2 are adamant that they are walking home. I can’t stop them. I need the 10 to stay the night. ‘’

‘’Housekeeping have made up beds in all the conference rooms, my two will share, and I have 14 beds total. I am keeping the girls from Housekeeping in one, my girls in one, and yours have the Queen Megan ballroom and the Princess Charlotte lounge. Make sure they are all fed before you send them up. I’ll sign off the tabs. ‘’

  
  


‘’Thank you,’’ I said back. I was still not looking up. Not meeting his eye as he handed me a piece of paper and a stack of keys for the conference halls.

  
  


‘’Styles?’’ He called as I turned around to walk away.

  
  


I didn’t reply but I turned to face him. I looked straight at him for the first time in weeks.

  
  


‘’What about you?’’ he asked, and for a minute his voice was soft. If I didn’t know him better I would have said his voice was kind. Concerned.

  
  


‘’I’ll kip on the loungers in the dining room. Don’t worry about me.’’ There was no way I was leaving, not with the uncertainty of the weather and knowing there was no way I would have a full set of staff in the morning. I had already texted the kids who were due to come in for 5 to start up the breakfast service, telling them not to endanger themselves in any way. There would be no repercussions for not turning up on time. Not with the way the wind was howling outside the glass fronted lobby. I couldn’t even see the other side of the street for the relentless vertical rain gusts whirling past outside.

  
  


‘’Bullshit Styles, I can’t let you do that. Health and Safety issues for a start. ‘’ Tomlinson was still looking straight at me.

  
  


‘’We have no rooms. I will be fine. Claire’s staying up in the bar, we already had Housekeeping make up the large sofa up there. ‘’

  
  


‘’She is fine up there, she can lock the door and has bathroom facilities.’’ He was dead serious as he kept his eyes firmly on me. ‘’You are not safe down here. I won’t have you sleep in the restaurant. ‘’

‘’Tomlinson,’’ I pleaded. ‘’You are being a dick.’’

  
  


I probably shouldn’t have phrased it like that. I should have been appreciative of his professional concerns with regards to my health and safety.

  
  


‘’Styles, If I am being a dick, you are being a twat, ‘’ he shot back before he could stop himself. I could see him recoil at his words the minute they left his mouth. He took a deep breath and tapped away at the computer in front of him. Bent down to retrieve the electronic key from the machine by his hip.

  
  


‘’Here.’’ He handed me a key. ‘’You’ll share with me, room 217. It’s the room that is out of service, no curtains and the toilet won’t stop flushing.’’

  
  


I took the key out of his hand as my mouth blurted out ‘’Fuck off. We can’t share.’’

  
  


He shrugged his shoulders. Looked at me with a look of disgust and said ‘’Suit yourself. Piss off home in the storm. I don’t give a fuck. Just make sure you are back in the morning, I will have enough shit to deal with without having to run your department as well.’’

  
  


He turned around and greeted Malik, the Night manager, with an over-enthusiastic smile and a high five as he appeared behind the desk ready to report for the night.

  
  


‘’Have I got any staff? He smiled and waved at me with a cheerful ‘’What fucking weather Styles! You all set up?’’

  
  


I smiled and he kept talking. I nodded back like a flipping monkey, my eyes darting between him and Tomlinson who wouldn’t look at me again.

  
  


There was no way I was going home. And if I slept in the restaurant Tomlinson would have me reported for violating Hotel protocol before I had even bedded down for the night.

  
  


I had no choice. Oh fuck. Oh fuck Fuck FUCK.

 


	5. Swimming in it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pencil art by vintagevinyl aka @tomlinshires on Tumblr

**_Swimming in it._ **

**_HARRY_ **

  
  


I flicked off the lights and slid the barrier across the opening to the restaurant area, before taking one last glance around the bar. Everything was quiet except for the howling gusts of wind hitting the glass panels towards the street. I used to love stormy weather. Loved the calmness inside whilst the weather raged outside covering the world in it’s tantrum of water and wind, yet this evening I just couldn’t calm down. The uneasiness in my chest felt like it was strangling me, like an invisible tie tied too tight around my neck.

I gave Malik a final nod for the evening and chatted mindlessly to the night staff whilst I programmed my wakeup call in for 5 in the switchboard panel. Wrote a reminder note for Malik and taped it on the desk before giving him a quick hug reminding him to call me if there was anything happening. Anything at all. Even though Tomlinson was officially the Duty Manager over night, I took my role seriously. This wasn’t a jolly. We were understaffed and overwhelmed. If anything went wrong I wanted to be called. End of.

  
  


I didn’t know where Tomlinson had gone, it was barely past 11 so he would probably not have headed off to bed yet. The light in his office was still on, but then Malik tended to use it at night so that was no indicator of where he could be.

  
  


It wasn’t that I was looking for him, I just needed to calm down. Put myself back together until I had to face the 6-hour prison sentence of sharing a room with him, that he had handed down on me. It wouldn’t be the restful sleep my body needed, it would no doubt turn into a shitfest of tossing and turning, whilst he huffed and puffed before we both combusted in a cloud of profanities. Him snarling off in his sharp voice laced with northern dialect, me mouthing off like a petulant child.

I tried my best to breathe deep and slow, as I skulked around the back offices, comfortably deserted and tidy during the night. The reservation area bathed in darkness with only the small lights from the modems and servers blinking randomly, the staff break room smelling of burnt coffee and sour milk, as I skulked over to the storage cupboard like some thief in the night. I helped myself to a toothbrush, deciding that shaving would be overkill. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and anyway, beard-growing wasn’t a skill my body had particularly mastered.

There was no way I was ready to head up to that room, and I was definitely not showering up there. No way I was laying myself that bare.

  
  


My master key slid through the slot in the elevator key reader and I pressed 35. Pool and Spa.

  
  


I had done this before, had a cheeky swim in the middle of the night letting my body release some pent-up steam and my mind relax in the salt water. The hotel pool closed at 10 so there would be no one there now, and the showers were good and strong, the towels always clean and fluffy. And anyway, Louise who ran the spa up there loved me, so I could get away with most things. Like using her essential oil soaps and leaving a dirty towel on the floor in the changing rooms after hours.

  
  


I stripped down to my underwear, letting my clothes fall carelessly on the tiled floor. My body wasn’t trim or overly muscular, but I was naturally fit with a good build. A few tattoos adorning my chest and arms, stupid things I had thought were brave and clever as a young man, which now made me smile and shake my head in admiration of the impulsive child I had been back then.

I had grown up with a mother who adored me and a father who held me up on his shoulders and told me I was amazing. It had never occurred to me to question their love or their motives, we had been family. Solid and strong, holding each other tight. My parent’s sudden divorce had hit like a thunderbolt, ripping my life into shreds and sinking me into a hole of despair, something I had struggled to recover from. Life had moved on, and I had lived my life hard and fast after that, leaving no time to stop and think. No time to let myself think too much of the consequences, to protect the myself from the lie of true love, and the hell that my parents had gone through. I had loved and lost, yet I still lived and laughed. I still tried to live like my parents had once taught me, grasping every moment, and turn it into something worth remembering. I just didn’t understand how I had let myself steer of track. Because somehow, I had grown some kind of fucked up fear. Become timid in my emotions, all because of the twat who threw his weight around the reception desk and pushed all my buttons. Well he pushed them alright. One at a time until my head felt like it would explode.

The pool wasn’t big enough for a swan dive, so I just slid in from the side, letting my head sink under the water. I floated for a few minutes on my back, hoping the stress would evaporate into the warmth. It didn’t. Of course.

Instead I thought of Louis Tomlinson. Thought of the way his neck stretched when he looked at me over his shoulder. When he thought I wasn’t looking right back. Of the way his body moved when he walked. I closed my eyes and imagined his body, naked. I knew he had some ink on his skin, shapes that sometimes shone through the fabric of his shirts. My mind played tricks on me again, and before I knew it I could feel my skin start to tingle. 

I imagined him holding me down. Fucking into my mouth, making me choke on the length of him. I could almost feel his fingers in my hair, tugging hard as my body remembered the taste of him, filling my mouth with saliva and letting the blood in my body pool to the last place I needed it to be. Because the thoughts that filled my head at night, when I would let my hand stroke myself to a shuddering climax, all revolved around Louis Tomlinson. Usually involving his cock in my mouth and his voice demanding me to let him have his way with me. Use me. Fuck my mouth whilst my hands were helplessly tied behind my back and my knees would ache from the strain of letting him own me. Use me and almost abuse me until I would spill into the sheets and whimper his name into the nothingness of my bedroom. It was no good. Especially not here in the pool where the risk of getting seen with a boner would do me no favours. None. None at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, I swam. Length after length of aggressive strokes through the water, until my arms were aching and my breath was staggered. Stopped in the middle of the pool and shook my head back to get the water out of my eyes.

  
  


‘’Whoa. Take it easy with the splashing.’’ The voice startled me to the point that I almost swore into thin air.

  
  


He was sitting down on his hunches on the edge of the pool, still in his suit and tie. Immaculate as always. Not a hair out of place. His fingers trailing aimlessly into the warm water.

  
  


‘’Give a guy some warning if you are going to scare the shit out of someone. And anyway, the spa is closed mate. ‘’ I winked. Hoping he would take it for what it was. A joke. 

 

I was not supposed to be here. Staff were not allowed to use the facilities after hours. Officially. But then rules had never been my strong side.

  
  


‘’Styles.’’ He almost pleaded with me. A tiny twinkle of amusement in his voice.

‘’Tomlinson’’ I pleaded back, swimming slowly up towards him. I hope he knew what he was doing. Because I sure didn’t. My mind was scooting off at a hundred miles an hour again, bursting with ideas. None of them good. None of them sensible or mature.

  
  


‘’Get out of the fucking pool before security check the cameras. I can’t be arsed to have to fill in reports. Especially for staff members breaching protocol. ‘’

  
  


He couldn’t be fucking serious. But then he could. He could be an arse if he wanted to be, especially when I was treading on thin ice. Or swimming in it.

  
  


So, I did what I did. Because I am a fucking idiot.

  
  


I grabbed his tie and with a swift flick of my hand I had him off balance and Louis Tomlinson tumbled head first into the water.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**_’We need to stop this’’_ **

 

**_LOUIS_ **

  
  
  


‘’FUCKING HELL YOU ARSEHOLE!’’ I shouted, my eyes stinging from the salt-infused water and my suit clinging to me as I clumsily treaded water. I can’t believe he did that. Fucking hell.

He was laughing. Of course, he was. Laughing that brilliant laugh and reaching out to grab my hand so he could pull me in towards the edge of the pool.

  
  


‘’I know how to swim,’’ I spurted out. Like a child.

  
  


‘’It’s not easy when you are wearing a suit,’’ he laughed back at me. Staring at me from under his wet fringe. Looking adorable. Beautiful. Gorgeous in all that skin and water. There was a small drop clinging to his top lip. I wanted to kiss it off.

  
  


I reined myself in with a deep breath.

  
  


‘’How the hell will I get this dry? How the fuck do you expect me to explain this?’’ I almost shouted at him, trying to wave my soggy jacket arm around in the water. The tie was strangling me, twisted back around my neck. My shirt riding up in the water as I tried to manoeuvre myself around so I could get back to the ladder. I wasn’t going to attempt a clumsy push out of the water. Not in front of him.

  
  


‘’Just say you fell into the water whilst I was retrieving a lost earring from the pool. Doing a good deed. You slipped. I helped you out. No biggie.’’ He shrugged his shoulders like his ridiculous fairy tale of a lie would ever find its way out of my mouth.

  
  


‘’Oh, just put a sock in it,’’ I snarled and attempted to get my shoe to sit on the bottom step of the ladder. Lunged myself upwards. And slipped. Falling backwards with a childish splash making my arm grasp into thin air as he wrapped his arms around me. Pulled me in to his chest and held me.

  
  


My arms fell to my sides, then cowardly floated up to find themselves against his arms, my fingers on his biceps.

  
  


‘’Just let me go,’’ I hissed.

‘’No,’’ He hissed back.

‘’Fuck this,’’ I snarled.

‘’No.’’ He was looking straight at me. His face a little too close to mine for comfort.

  
  


I looked away. Pushed at his arms. Wriggled clumsily in my suit as he pulled me tighter towards him.

  
  


‘’We need to stop this,’’ he whispered.

  
  


I tried to look away but his forehead fell forwards against mine and I had no choice. I looked at him. Looked him straight in the eye and my body let out an embarrassingly loud sigh.

  
  


‘’I don’t know what you are talking about.’’ I tried.

  
  


Bad lie Tomlinson. You coward.

  
  


‘’Arsehole,’’ He whispered.

‘’Wanker,’’ I retaliated.

‘’You uptight twatface.’’

‘’Cunt.’’

‘’Fucktard.’’

  
  


Show-off, I thought as my mind scrambled to think of something to cut him down with. I couldn’t. My mind swum as his eyes were on mine. His nose nudging mine. Just soft little touches that had me shivering although the water was warm and my suit was clinging to every inch of my body.

  
  


He kissed me, right there. Just angled his head and leant right in. His lips were perfect, softly nudging mine. Pressing with just the right amount of touch. Both of us wet, and tasting of salt and perfumed water.

  
  


I whimpered slightly thinking it wasn’t right. Not that the cameras were very clear down here and no doubt Higgins was sitting up in the security booth filming it all on his mobile. Not that this was so way out there wrong that we could both be up in the General Manager’s office before daylight being asked to explain what the hell we had been thinking.

  
  


I whimpered because I couldn’t taste him. Because I couldn’t smell him under all the heady scents of the water and the spa and the candles that burned down here all day. It made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

  
  


I pushed him off me and scrambled out of the water. Stood on the edge of the water in my soaking wet miserable self just staring at his naked chest in the pool. His body inked with a myriad of designs, the quirkiness he so proudly wore carried effortlessly on his skin. 

The blackness in his eyes was frightening me. His hands trembling slightly from trying to regain control of himself.

I drunk in the sight of his lips. His lips that must have stung as much as mine.

  
  


I should have stayed. I should have helped him out and told him to sit down with me and talk. We could fix this. We could be friends. Surely, we could work professionally without all this stupid childish behaviour thrown in.

  
  


I was an adult, yet I was the most childish one out of the two of us. Because I turned around and walked out of the room, the water sploshing with every step leaving a ridiculous wet trail behind me as I stomped out in the corridor. I could barely walk, my teeth clattering with anger. I left him there, and didn’t even glance back.

  
  


I fished my master key out of my pocket, along with my mobile phone, twisting around with a roar as I held it out in front of me. It was dead, dripping with water. Of course. Fucking Styles. Fuck him. FUCK HIM. FUCK FUCKING EVERYTHING.

  
  



	7. ''Can we just pretend that we're OK?''

**_‘’Can we just pretend that we’re ok?’’_ **

**_HARRY_ **

  
  


Yes. I should have known better. I should have chosen some well worded phrases to calm the tension between us. Instead I had behaved like a prat. Humiliated him. Made him hate me even more than he already did.

  
  


Yet he had let me kiss him, and he had kissed me back, there was no doubt about it. He wanted parts of this as much as I did, and he was just as confused as me. I saw it in his eyes. The fear. The anger. That terrified look when you want something so much that you can almost taste it. Before it’s taken away and your life goes to shit.

  
  


So, I got out of the pool and shuffled around, standing on the oversized towel, carefully mopping up the water on the side of the pool leaving the area pristine for the morning. I showered and washed my hair, wrapping up my soaked underpants in a hand towel and contemplating getting dressed. I couldn’t be arsed to be honest and my temper was flaring again.

  
  


I was only going to strip of in a minute or two to get into bed, and knowing Tomlinson he would be in bed with his back to the door and the light off. There would be no talking. No cheerful summarizing of the day. No good night sleep tight crap.

  
  


Son of a bitch and his fucking mouth. He drove me crazy. In the worst possible way.

The towel around my waist felt better than the restrictive clothes I gathered up in my hands, and I shook my head as I chucked the towels I had use in the basket by the door, before I switched the light off and let the door to the lock behind me.

  
  


I hurried down the corridor in my bare feet, letting my shoes dangle from my fingers. My hand shook a little as I let myself into the service area, and pressed the button for the lift. I knew no one would be around. It wasn’t that. I didn’t mind loitering around half naked in the back area, and anyone I met would just shake their head and laugh at me. They all knew I was a little wild. No inhibitions. Always the one to pull pranks and test the boundaries.

  
  


I didn’t feel very wild and wacky right now. I felt angry. I felt sad. I felt alone. Again.

  
  


The door to room 217 was laughing at me, I was sure of it as I stood outside it with my forehead pressing against the wood. Breathing heavily trying to muster up the courage to open the damn thing so I could slip in and go to sleep.

  
  


I wouldn’t sleep though. I knew I would be lying there with my thoughts churning until the early hours and if I got an hour of blissful rest I would be lucky. I almost contemplated going over to the conference hall and bedding down on the floor. Not that I would put my staff through the shock of a half-naked Styles bursting into their impromptu sleepover. I had snuck them a couple of beers and a catering pack of potato crisps. They were all good people and would have welcomed me, dressed or not, but I just couldn’t. I was too raw emotionally to have to be sociable and fun and, well, be me. The one they expected.

  
  


Funnily enough, going into room 217 and getting the silent treatment from Tomlinson seemed like the safer option. I knew where I stood with him. I almost felt safe in the knowledge that he would let me be. Let me lie there and stew in my head.

  
  


The door slid open with a swift tap of my master key, letting me slip into the cool darkness of the room. There were no curtains, just as he had said, and the drips from the faulty toilet echoed through the silence. The water droplets on the outside of the glass cast a soft sheen over the double bed in the middle of the room where I could just about make out the shape of his body under the duvet, his shoulder moving as he tucked the covers tighter around himself.

  
  


He didn’t speak.

  
  


Neither did I as I put my clothes on the desk and let my shoes drop to the floor. The charger lead from my trouser pocket fitted straight into the socket where I knew it would be without even looking.

  
  


The vibration startling me as the phone sprung to life.

  
  


I didn’t even pretend. Just pulled the duvet back and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting the towel drop to the floor. I was naked. Fuck it. It wasn’t like we were going to be anywhere near each other.

  
  


‘’You killed my phone you fooking plank.’’

  
  


His voice was flat. Hard. Prickled with anger letting his northern accent shine through his normally carefully controlled vocabulary.

  
  


‘’I’m sorry,’’ I said, letting the silence swallow my sigh. I rolled in under the duvet, my hips and legs kicking aimlessly until I got comfortable on my side, his back still facing me.

  
  


‘’Fooking twat’’ He spat out, quietly.

  
  


‘’Why are you so hard Louis?’’ I couldn’t call him Tomlinson. Not now. Not when he was getting on my nerves and I just wanted him to be quiet. Let me be. ‘’Why are you so full of angles and prickles and shit? It’s like you just hate everything. Like you hate me. ‘’

  
  


‘’I don’t hate you….Harry,’’ he spat out my name like it was venom on his tongue.

  
  


‘’It’s like you were never cuddled as a child. Like you have forgotten how to be human. Kind. Soft. Why can’t you just be nice to me?’’

  
  


He didn’t reply to that. Just breathed into thin air as I shifted uncomfortably in between the starched sheets.

  
  


‘’Come here.’’

  
  


That was me. Being ridiculous again. But I had a plan. And we both needed to sleep.

  
  


‘’Fuck off,’’ he replied and shifted his hips. Tucked the duvet tighter around his shoulders.

  
  


‘’Louis. Come here before I drag you over here. You need a cuddle. And I need a hug. We are both a mess and we need to sleep. So, for fucks sake make it easy on both of us and  _ come here _ . ‘’ I said the two last words with feelings. Louder than the rest.

  
  


‘’Harry.’’ His voice did not sound convinced.

  
  


‘’Louis.’’ I tugged at the duvet. Tugged harder. Made him roll on to his back.

  
  


‘’It’s dark. We won’t have to talk about this in the morning. Just come here and let me hold you so we can both sleep. I won’t do anything else. We just need to calm the fuck down.’’

I could feel his stare. Not that he could see me, and I surely couldn’t see him. But he shifted under the covers and his skin encountered my arm as I raised it over my head so he could lie his head on my chest. My lips in his hair. A ridiculous victorious sigh escaping my mouth as his arm settled around my waist, only for his hand to move up and come to rest on my shoulder.

He smelt gorgeous. Of soap and water and faintly of that cologne he wears.

  
  


Then his legs moved, tangling into mine as I shifted so we could both be comfortable.

  
  


‘’I’m not hard and emotionally stunted or whatever.’’ He whispered into my chest. ‘’I’m just not very good with feelings.’’

  
  


‘’That’s OK,’’ I said back. It wasn’t. It’s wasn’t OK. Because just now all I wanted was to hold him and pretend there weren’t so many feelings involved that it was making me a little bit light headed.

  
  


‘’I’m not good with looking after other people’s feelings. I hurt people and then I get hurt. It’s easier just to pretend there is nothing there. It keeps me sane, it’s just who I am.’’ Louis’s voice was almost embarrassed. Quiet.

  
  


It sounded ridiculous coming from him, talking about feelings and hurt like he knew what he was talking about. I couldn’t imagine him ever having been hurt, the guy that acted like his heart was made from concrete.

  
  


‘’Then just drop the act for a second Louis? Can we just pretend that we’re ok? Please, because I’m too tired to keep this up. Please just be real for now. Just you and me. Lie here with me and let me pretend there are feelings. That we are something to each other.’’

  
  


‘’Why would you want to do that?’’ he whispered. He sounded small. Tired. He sounded like me.

  
  


‘’Because sometimes, we need to feel like we are OK. That we are not so fucked up and alone and that life isn’t such a mess. ‘’

  
  


‘’But that’s not real-life Harry. Life is a mess, and I think you and I are the most fucked up people on this planet. I mean, just look at us. ‘’ He waved his hand in the darkness. I could feel the waft of air hitting my chin. ‘’Just look at us. We can’t even have a conversation without either yelling at each other or hurling insults or….’’ He swallowed whatever words were going to roll off his tongue next.

  
  


‘’Or kiss the hell out of each other and get each other off. I know. It’s a mess.’’

  
  


We were quiet after that.

  
  


He breathed into my chest, his fingers dancing over the skin of my shoulder. Little strokes that meant nothing.

  
  


I breathed him in, my nose tangled up in the hair on his head.

  
  


It felt like hours, just lying there. His heartbeat steady, his breathing quiet and soft. It was probably bare minutes. I fell asleep like that. Helplessly and mercilessly. I didn’t remember my last thoughts. Just that I was safe and loved. It’s wasn’t real. It didn’t matter thought.

  
  


For just a little while, I pretended everything was perfect.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**_The book of Louis_ **

**_LOUIS_ **

  
  


I can’t pretend I didn’t wake up when the telephone rang with it’s annoying shrill tone. It was way too early for me and for a moment I wondered why the fuck the phone was ringing. Until he leant across my body to answer it and his voice was whispering cheerily into the receiver above my head.

  
  


‘’Yeah. Yeah. All right. I’ll be right down, give me 10 minutes yeah? Cheers Malik. See ya.’’

The receiver slammed back on the phone with a plasticky clunk.

  
  


‘’Sorry, go back to sleep. I will get Malik to ring you at 6.30, Ok?’’

  
  


His voice was in my ear, his lips so close to my skin that I could almost taste them. I was still foggy from sleep and needy in my half-awake state. I won’t pretend I didn’t want it. I wanted anything. A kiss. A lazy stroke of his hand.

  
  


Instead I got his nose in my hair, and a half-hearted attempt at getting up before he leaned back across the bed in the dark. He tugged at the duvet and tucked me in, folding the fabric gently around my shoulders.

  
  


It was a tiny gesture but it made me all warm inside. Like I was a small child getting tucked in by its mother. I must have whimpered out loud, shuddering slightly and burrowing down in the warmth under the covers now his body wasn’t plastered to my back like it had been only moments earlier.

  
  


It was all coming back to me in small realizations. I had let him hold me, and I had held him back. We had slept all tangled up, our limbs mingled in a mess of sheets.

  
  


I had never slept with anyone like that. It wasn’t in my grand plan. Wasn’t something I thought I needed, hell, I never thought I was a physical person, I just simply wasn’t wired that way. Well apparently, I had that bit all wrong.

He had held me and I had clung to him like he was the last man on earth. My face burrowing into his chest and my legs refusing to move from the warmth between his thighs. I don’t even want to think of the sweat clinging to my back where he was asleep only minutes ago. Now all that was left was me feeling wet and cold tucked up in the warmth of the duvet.

  
  


He got dressed in silence, I could make out the rip of his zip being pulled up, the buttons on his shirt being fastened. The cord of the charger being pulled from the wall jack and his huffed breath leaning down to tie his shoelaces.

  
  


‘’Harry?’’

  
  


I could help myself. I just wanted one last moment. One last second of this to cling onto for the rest of the day.

  
  


‘’Yeah?’’ His voice was soft and kind. I felt like crying. Honestly. What the hell was wrong with me.

  
  


‘’Nothing.’’

  
  


I curled back into a ball under the duvet, my cheeks burning in shame. I was not needy. I didn’t need anything from him. Not from him of all people. However much my body was screaming for him just to come and touch me. Anything. Please.

  
  


‘’I will see you later, ‘kay? ‘’

  
  


I missed him before the door had even slammed shut behind him.

  
  


I never went back to sleep, instead I helped myself to a front of house uniform from the rack in the housekeeping office, and spent the morning dealing with paperwork whilst my suit drip-dried in shame behind me.

  
  


I was short tempered and brisk with my staff, and had no mercy for the requests of our guests. I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear myself.

  
  


I didn’t see him all day, even though he was barely a few seconds walk away from me, running the breakfast service like clockwork despite being short staffed with a full house.

  
  


Then our computers went down, forcing Horan to come in on foot, smiling like a loon as he dripped water from his sodden umbrella through the lobby, leaving slippery trails on the marbled tiles as he stomped around showing off to the reception staff behind the desk. I almost cracked a smile. Instead I barked down the phone to housekeeping to come and sort out the floor before a guest broke their necks on the sludge and sued us for everything we had.

  
  


I hid in my office, cowardly letting my staff handle the fallout. I dealt with all the crap they threw at me in the afternoon, manually posting the charges to accounts and sorting out the lists from the morning’s computer fuckup.

  
  


I knew he would be busy as well, but I somehow expected we would speak. That whatever happened last night was something we needed to address.

We hadn’t fucked. We hadn’t messed around. He had just held me, and I felt like whatever we had going on had shifted where we stood. I needed to know what happened now. I needed to know what he thought.

I needed him.

He never came.

I gave up just after 5, shoved my chair into the wall and stomped across the lobby floor, expecting to find him in the back area, dressed in one of his fancy shirts, where his office was.

  
  


I expected to see him snowed under with paperwork, his mobile stuffed between his shoulder and his ear as he put in orders for tomorrow. I expected him to be there.

  
  


He had left early they said. Gone home.

  
  


I didn’t speak to him for weeks after that.

  
  


We went back to the silent indifference. The brewing hatred within me. He had been right, I was hard. There was nothing soft or kind about me.

I had grown up in a church commune in Yorkshire, a closed off village of pretty houses around a communal chapel. The men were stern and distant. The women silent and subdued. I grew up with children who stayed quiet and played in secret, where running barefoot in the grass was frivolous and ungodly, and the thought of straying from the path of God was not even an option.

  
  


I had left home to go to school in Doncaster, and had started renting a small room in a shared apartment during the second year, so I could spend more time studying and less time travelling on the bus back home. My parents supported the idea, hoping I would return when I finished my schooling. I never did. Instead I worked at a small hotel after school, cleaning and running errands. I taught myself the computer system at the reception and they gave me a few shifts. I served breakfast and ran the dishwashers in the restaurant late at night, whilst finishing school with decent grades. They were good enough for me to leave the country with a posh embossed letter outlining my scholarship to the Hotel Management degree at the Les Roches in Switzerland, and I never looked back.

 

The Hotel school was an eyeopener, in more ways than one. In a community of students from every part of the world, I discovered falling in lust. Messing around. I discovered sex. That there were options apart from marrying a girl from the village.

  
  


I liked boys. I liked what I liked and others liked other things, which was apparently fine. And God didn’t strike me dead the first time I kissed a man, or put my hand on a dick that wasn’t my own.

  
  


My sexuality was a shameful secret I had carried around like a burden but, I didn’t have a choice. I fucked my way around hoping one day I would get my attraction to men out of my system. I didn’t. I hated myself for what it meant. I hated that I would never go back. That I would never make my parents proud.

  
  


I chose the cowards way out in the end. I cut off everything I had ever known, and never went back home. I cemented my decision on a blustery winter evening, getting my first tattoo painfully etched across my chest. It is what it is. And it was. Every letter the tattooist had finished off, had burnt another bridge into my past. I would never go back. Never return. Never again be the frightened boy I had become. Every painful prick was stained with a weird mix of shame and release. A reluctant freedom of sorts. A whole new shameful secret I would bury deep inside my skin.

  
  


My mother would receive a card from me every year, I wouldn’t tell her much, just that I was fine and working hard. I didn’t leave a return address because I couldn’t risk her trying to find me. It was bad enough I had totally abandoned my faith, but I didn’t want to risk hers, doubting her firm belief in God and the world as she knew it.

  
  


I was alone and alone I remained.

  
  


Until fucking Styles had shown me what I had been missing, and now he was firmly stuck in my head. I had dealt with the world for years. I had managed perfectly fine on my own until now. And now I went to bed at night imagining his breath in my hair and his arms around my body. I wanted him to love me like he had that night. I wanted to be his, for him to take me away from all the loneliness in my chest and tell me I was worth it. That I was someone, someone to him.

  
  


I would have to fix it, the only way I could. I would have to fuck him and forget him. Because that’s what you did, wasn’t it?

  
  



	9. ''Merry Freaking Christmas''

 

**_‘’Merry freaking Christmas’’_ **

**_HARRY_ **

  
  


It all came to its head on Christmas Eve, where the hotel side was quiet and the restaurant empty apart from a few guests lingering around the Christmas buffet. The pianist in the bar was playing ridiculous jazz versions of Christmas songs that were seriously doing my head in, and Adam who was filling in  behind the bar had threatened to spike everyone’s drinks if I didn’t evict the poor woman and her damn piano at 11 sharp.

  
  


It was close to midnight and she was still playing.

  
  


I had successfully avoided Tomlinson all Evening, after yesterday’s disastrous management meeting where I ended up seated next to him again. I preferred being next to him so I didn’t have to avoid his gaze. I didn’t have to pretend that I wouldn’t look at him. Instead I sat through the meeting bouncing my pen against the table listening to Mr Corden, our General manager, drone on about Christmas cheer whilst everyone else was dying, their heads already halfway out the door wanting to go home. Home to their families and friends.

  
  


I didn’t mean to do it, it was an accident honestly. I grazed my hand against his leg under the table and he jumped like I had shocked him with a taser. He looked mortified. Glared at me like I was the scum of the earth.

  
  


It had rattled me to the point that I completely fluffed my report, and turned my snazzy PowerPoint slide with little Santas jumping on the pie charts into a disastrous attempt at humour where I couldn’t remember what the hell I was waffling on about, whilst Mr Corden looked at me like I had lost my bloody mind. I had. It was a fucking disaster.

  
  


Tomlinson met my gaze briefly as I exited the room, my cheeks burning in embarrassment, and all I could see was hurt. I didn’t understand him. I didn’t get him at all.

  
  


He wouldn’t speak to me. He wouldn’t even look at me if we walked past each other. He had made no attempt to wave a white flag of peace anywhere in my direction since that night when he slept on my chest.

  
  


To be honest neither had I, but I had given him a chance. I had left him in bed that morning thinking we would be different from now on. That we would turn a new leaf and give being friends a try. That we could at least like each other a little.

  
  


He had ignored me through out that day. Turned in a report claiming I had damaged his phone, and I had laughed out loud when I had read the text on the screen. He had stated he had accidentally dropped it in the water attempting to dissuade me from launching a rescue mission to retrieve a guest’s earring from the SPA pool.

  
  


The dude had nerve. And I got stung for the cost of replacing his phone. Fucking idiot. I still signed off for the charges, and deleted his number from my phone in a fit of rage.

  
  


I still thought of him at night. Of the way he clung to me, how he slept in my arms. He was beautiful. I think I had always thought he was, but that evening he got to me, and I couldn’t shift my infatuation with him. My obsession with all things Louis Tomlinson.

I didn’t dare do anything about it though, because I wasn’t sure I could cope with the rejection. The snarky laughter if I got it all wrong. The shame of being the one he just simply couldn’t stand.

  
  


We had been perfect that evening, and now we were not. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

So, it was Christmas and I was kicking the last of the fridge doors shut and waving good-bye to Sarah and Tess who were chilling out with rest of the staff, all casually seated in the back of the restaurant downing a festive drink on the house. A little Christmas cheer at the end of another successfully executed Christmas Eve dinner service.

  
  


I was heading home, to my lonely flat. Just me. I had spoken to my parents earlier and wished them a merry Christmas. They had been heading to my sister’s house, with their respective new families, to a home full of children and decorations and candles and food. I would join them for New year’s, if I could get a last-minute train up to Holmes Chapel. I hadn’t planned ahead as usual, always leaving things to the last minute.

  
  


My mother just laughed at me, she knew me too well. I messed up. Always.

  
  


His office was lit up as I passed, and for a second the impulsiveness in me took over. I walked straight in and sat myself down in his visitor’s chair, putting my heavy boots up on the edge of his desk. Crossed my arms over the thick jacket covering my chest and fixed my stare at him.

  
  


He looked terrified to be honest. Which made me brave.

  
  


‘’Tomlinson’’ I said. I tried to be calm. To keep my voice steady.

  
  


He just looked at me.

  
  


‘’It’s past midnight. Please go home. Payne is out front, he’s the Duty Manager. You should be at home with your loved ones. ‘’

  
  


‘’Loved ones,’’ he muttered. ‘’So why are you here? You should have left at 11. Shouldn’t you be home with your  _ loved ones _ ?’’ He snarled out the two last words. Almost in disgust.

  
  


‘’My family live in a place called Holmes Chapel, north of Birmingham. I spoke to them earlier, and I might get to see them on New Year’s Eve if I’m lucky.’’

  
  


He just looked down at his hands, fiddling mindlessly with some papers.

  
  


‘’Louis, I just wanted to say that I’m…’’ I had to stop myself. I wasn’t sorry. I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing. ‘’I wonder if things between us could have been different. If we had met under different circumstances, rather than here.’’

‘’What do you think could have been different?’’ he replied, looking calm and resigned for once.

  
  


‘’Maybe in a different place, in a different time, we would be walking home together. You would have held my hand, and we would have gone back to our flat, where we would have cuddled up on the sofa and had a glass of wine. There would be some crap on TV and then you would have fallen asleep on my chest. And tomorrow we would have gone for a walk. Maybe gone iceskating up by the National History Museum? The weather is supposed to be good.’’ I stopped myself, because I had let myself get carried away in my juvenile daydreams.

  
  


He looked stunned. Like I had told him I was into BDSM and liked being tied up and spanked or some shit like that.

  
  


‘’You, want to go ice skating with me?’’ he questioned, and damn him there was a tiny glimmer of a smile hiding carefully in the corner of his eye. Just a twinkle but it spurred me on.

  
  


‘’Why not? We could do that?’’ I was serious. I loved ice skating. I was crap at it but it was fun and would make us laugh, being silly and falling over and holding onto each other. My stomach was starting to glow with warmth just at the thought of it.

  
  


‘’Go home Styles,’’ he sighed and put his head in his hands.

  
  


‘’What are your grand plans for Christmas then? If you won’t come ice skating with me?’’

  
  


‘’I am going to go home and forget you exist Styles. Forget this whole shithole of a place exists. Get shitfaced on my own in my flat and sleep until my alarm goes off and I will have to drag myself out of bed to come back here and deal with arseholes like yourself. So please just get out of my sight and piss off home. ‘’

  
  


I couldn’t figure out where the sudden hostility came from. The anger. I suppose that was it then.

  
  


Rejected and scolded. Reprimanded like a naughty schoolboy.

I suppose this was the end. There would never be anything else.

I could deal with that. I didn’t have a choice, did I?

  
  


I walked out and pulled my beanie over my head. Headed home in the crisp winter air.

‘’Merry Christmas’’ I whispered to myself. ‘’Merry freaking Christmas.’’

  
  



	10. ''I need this''

 

**_''I need this’’_ **

**_LOUIS_ **

  
  


I don’t know why I lashed out at him like that, because he surely didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve my anger and self-hatred. He didn’t deserve the angst that lived in my chest when I remembered my family at home at Christmas. They would be thinking of me, wondering what the hell they had done to deserve the wall of silence I had built.

  
  


I hadn’t seen them for many years. I couldn’t even imagine going back now. I just couldn’t even begin to explain why. How.

  
  


Whatever. I had built myself a life but it wasn’t really a life. I existed in a prison with walls I had built myself.

  
  


My office walls were laughing at me with silence screaming in my head.  My fists banging against the wooden surface and I kicked the chair as I stood up. Then I sat down again. Took two steps out into the corridor and turned back again.

  
  


I sat back down on my chair and logged back into the hotel system, and did the unthinkable.

  
  


His name appeared in the search bar and with a swift tap I pulled up his personal file. Clicked on the bar revealing his home address. It wasn’t too far, just a few stops on the tube. I knew the area.

  
  


My feet walked out through the lobby without even a good-bye to the team standing behind the reception desk with their cheery Santa hats and jingle-bell-earrings and all that shit. I pulled my hat over my head and zipped my jacket up under my chin. Then I walked.

  
  


I didn’t let myself think about what I was doing, as I stood silently on the tube, with my head down in some self inflicted haze of need. My feet keeping a steady pace until I turned up the road to where he lived. Kept a steady side glance on the numbers as I passed by the lit-up entrances and the twinkling of Christmas lights coming from the windows above. It was almost one in the morning so the parties had calmed down. Children were fast asleep in their beds no doubt, their parents probably asleep too. There would just be the odd lonely shadow of a human walking briskly by in the frosty air. Stopping outside the entrance and nervously scanning the names next to the buzzers.

  
  


My hand shook as I pointed my finger at the button next to his name, my heart beating out of my chest. I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my jacket and took a deep breath. Pressed the buzzer.

  
  


There was no reply. I pressed again. Told myself I would wait for a minute. Press again and then go home.

  
  


I didn’t notice the movement inside at first, then the light came on and he was standing there in the stairwell. He was barefoot, a well washed t-shirt over his boxers, the nakedness of his legs making me feel cold all over again.

  
  


He held the door open with one arm, just looking at me like he had seen a ghost. Waiting for me to walk past him into the building.

  
  


Instead I walked straight up to him and laid my head against his shoulder. I walked into his arms as he folded them around my body. Squeezed me tighter and tighter with every breath.

  
  


‘’You’re here,’’ he whispered into my hair. His lips kissing my forehead as I desperately tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. So, I swallowed the sobs in my chest until I was hurting from the pain of holding them back as he gently shuffled me towards his door. Pulled me inside and closed the door behind us.

  
  


I was sobbing desperately as he pulled my jacket off me and let it drop to the floor.

  
  


He threw the suit jacket to the side and unfastened the belt of my trousers, yanking them down so I could hobble out of them as my fingers clung around the grip I had on his t-shirt, grasping for him, trying to keep my face buried against his chest.

  
  


‘’It’s OK, Louis, It’s fine. Everything is fine.’’ He was speaking to me like I was a baby. Cooing and shushing me with every touch. With every little stroke of his fingers against my clothes as he unbuttoned my shirt. My tie was already gone, I couldn’t remember him pulling it away from around my neck.

  
  


In the end he let me go, turning away from me to open the door to what I assumed was the bathroom. I could hear him rummaging around in there whilst I stood in his hallway wearing just my boxers and socks, my arms folded around myself and tears streaming down my face. It was so absurd that I started to laugh in among the sobs.

  
  


‘’I’m such a mess,’’ I blurted out as he emerged from behind the door holding a bathrobe in his arms.

  
  


‘’You’re allowed to be a mess,’’ he said and smiled at me. Which made me lose it again, ugly crying, slobbering snot and tears from my face as he swept the bathrobe around my shoulders so I could get my arms inside. His arms reached around me and found the belt ties, tying them neatly around the front.

  
  


‘’Come,’’ was all he said, and I followed him. I would have followed him anywhere at that point.

 

I sat down next to him on the sofa as he bent down and pulled up a crumpled duvet from the floor.

  
  


It landed over our legs and he pulled me in until I was up on his chest, half lying on top of him, his arms around my back and his lips pressed against my forehead.

  
  


‘’I missed this,’’ he whispered. ‘’I missed having you like this, with me.’’

  
  


‘’I missed it too,’’ I hiccupped out. ‘’I need this.’’

  
  


‘’You can have it. You can have anything you want,’’ he said back, his voice hidden in my hair.

  
  


He held me whilst the TV showed something neither of us watched. There was a glass of red wine on the table that never got drunk. His breaths were steady and strong against my cheek, his hands never slowing their strokes over my back. Fingers combing through my hair. Little kisses landing on my head now and then reminding me he was there.

  
  


I felt drunk. Dizzy with the warmth of him. My mind swimming in thoughts I just couldn’t deal with.

  
  


‘’I would have wiped you out ice skating. I am the bloody master of ice skating.’’ I slurred just before sleep wiped me out. I slept. I slept like the dead.

  
  



	11. ''I love him''

**_‘’I love him’’_ **

**_HARRY_ **

 

 

I dragged him into my bed at some point in the early hours of the morning, stumbling awkwardly across the wooden floor into the softness of cotton sheets and cool pillows against our skin.

He barely noticed, completely back asleep before I had a chance to cover his body with the duvet that I retrieved from the living room, turning off the light with my elbow as I lay down beside him.

  
  


I loved that he was here. I loved that he had crumbled, lost all those inhibitions he insisted on wearing like a shield. He was scared. Lonely. He was just like me, only I wore all my anxieties on the outside, brushing them off as a joke and a shrug off my shoulders, whilst he hid them, letting them eat him up from the inside.

  
  


I woke up around midday, shivering with the coldness of the room, the sun glaring through the open blinds. For a moment my chest constricted in terror thinking he had left. I couldn’t feel him next to me in the bed until I jerked my head off the pillow and saw him rolled up in the duvet like a human burrito. The little shit.

  
  


I went to the toilet. Brushed my teeth and gave my cock a wash.

  
  


I was hoping. I mean it was Christmas after all, and Christmas was all about giving. And receiving of course. And I was damn good at both.

  
  


There was a new bottle of lube in the bathroom cupboard, and a supply of condoms by my bed.

  
  


I wasn’t one for being sloppy when it came to opportunities. I was always prepared, however hap- hazard my planning was with the rest of my life. Like answering the phone to my mum, when she rang the mobile that was buzzing angrily on the coffee table next door.

I hobbled in and turned it to silent, shooting off a quick text to say I would ring later and sort out my plans.

  
  


There were plans darting around in my head like fireworks, popping with ideas that I hoped he would like, and after, when we were sated and ready, I was hoping we could talk. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We had to end this now. Start fresh. There could be an us if we just gave it a try. I wouldn’t ask him to change, I kind of liked him just the way he was.

  
  


I just needed him to let me love him, to hold him at night, and to be the one he needed. I didn’t need much, but I needed to be his too. I was tired of the games. I was tired of bed-hopping around. I was almost 26 and I wanted this. I wanted to settle down, and stop the chase. The endless search for the one person that was perfect for me, and somehow, I thought it would be him. It had always been him. From the very start and the first wave of arrogance between us, there had been a spark. A silent notion of belonging. I belonged with him, as he belonged with me.

  
  


There was no question in my mind, I just had to make him see it as clearly as I did.

 

He was still fast asleep as I lay my naked body down facing his. Dragged the duvet around both of us letting myself breathe in the scent of him. The smell that was distinctly Louis. Soft and woody with a hint of spice. A faint waft of mild shampoo. The unmistakable undertones of the dusty back office at work lingering.

 

I had spent many nights dreaming back of how he had tasted. The faint musk of his groin imprinted into my consciousness like it belonged there. The distinct saltiness of him forever left on my tongue.

 

He looked so different like this, with his face relaxed and his guard down. There were no frown lines on his forehead, no wrinkles formed by stress at the corners of his eyes. Instead he was breathing softly into the pillow, his arms gently crossed in front of his body, resting on his side with his knees curled up. He suddenly looked so young. Far too young for all the work he took on. The responsibilities he carried on his shoulders. I let my finger trace the outline of his shoulder. Run softly down the muscles on his arms.

 

I’d never actually looked closer at the ink on his chest, the decorative words he had printed into his skin. ‘’It is what it is’’. I let the words form on my lips. It was so distinctly him. Who he was. In all his faults and errors, he never backed down from who he was. He was him. But there was another side of him he rarely let out, a side that I felt privileged to finally have seen.

  
  


Because he might not know that people realize, but I could see right through him. Despite all his hardness and walls, he was the kindest person I had ever met. I know how he covered for Payne, and took on his Duty Manager-shifts whenever his son was unwell. I know he only gave Bleta morning shifts so she could pick up her kids after school, despite the rota that should spread shifts fairly among the staff. I know he made sure Simon the doorman didn’t get the sack when he should have. He knew all these little things, and he looked after people. He was kind. Caring. He had a good heart underneath all that coldness he thought people should see.

 

He didn’t have any family that he spoke of and I knew what it is like to feel alone. And it was  Christmas. The one time of the year when nobody should be alone.

  
  


‘’Hi,’’ he whispered.

I hadn’t realized he was awake, too lost in my thoughts as my fingers were still carefully stroking his arm. Featherlight little touches.

‘’Merry Christmas,’’ I whispered back with a smile. I was so happy he was here. I was so incredibly happy that we were together, that I wasn’t alone. That he wasn’t at home on his own.

  
  


‘’Sorry…’’ he started but I placed my fingertip on his lips, and shushed him.

  
  


‘’I love that you came. I love that you are here. Let’s just take this for what it is. Hang out. Have some breakfast. I’ve got some Mince Pies in the fridge. With brandy butter. ‘’

  
  


He scrunched his nose up, giving me a shy smile. Almost mischievous.

  
  


‘’No brandy butter. Custard maybe, or just with a sprinkling of icing sugar. The only way to have Mince pies. Although my parents would have found it ungodly to decorate God’s gift of food with frivolities. We had plain oat porridge at Christmas. Plain with a dash of milk. ‘’

  
  


He stopped himself like he had said too much. Offered up something too personal to share.

  
  


‘’My parents were all about going overboard.’’ I smiled at him. Trying to put his mind at ease. ‘’We would have Mince Pies with Brandy Butter, custard and cream. With fresh bread, and special coffee. My Mum still makes her own Christmas Cake, and I make this amazing Julelog, with homemade raspberry buttercream, and… ‘’ I stopped myself. I was overwhelming him with my annoying chatter again.  There was no holding back at Christmas at our house. There still wasn't.’

  
  


He’s wasn’t smiling. Just looking at me like he was trying to figure me out. A little fear hiding in the corner of his eyes. His mouth twitching like he wanted to say something, but he was holding back.

  
  


‘’Would you like a kiss?’’ I asked.

  
  


It was stupid question. But I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared that if I jumped him he would push me away. And if I don’t do anything he would get up and leave, and there would be nothing short of holding him down and locking him in the toilet to stop him walking out the door.

Physically stopping him would be wrong. And creepy.

  
  


There was a tiny smirk there as I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. Just the softest of touches. Over and over. Little pecks on his skin.

  
  


He kissed me back, which spurred me on. My fingers wrapped around his face, and my body nudged closer to his, both of us moving until I was half on top of him and he was flat on his back. My leg edging over his, my face hovering over him, planting kisses on his skin. On his eyelids, his cheeks. The corners of his mouth. Soft little kisses that made my stomach buzz with butterflies and my dick fill with blood.

  
  


He was gorgeous. Beautifully relaxed under the assault of my lips. His fingers moving up and curling around my neck as his tongue flicked over my mouth. He kissed me, lapping at my tongue. Tasted me with a content little hum. Responding by arching his hips as I ground my cock against his boxers.

  
  


I was leaking. Shamelessly leaving warm wet marks on his underwear as our bodies moved in some kind of uncoordinated dance, little ruts and jerks as his legs twisted with mine and his hands roamed down over my back. They landed on my arse, squeezing my rounded globes with his fingers.

  
  


My mouth squealed. Just slightly. Just with the sudden change in him as I kissed down his neck. Moved my groin away from his hands and started to lick lines down his stomach. I kissed his belly button and his hands fisted my hair. I snapped the elastic of his briefs, making sure he was watching me tugging them down over his cock, that sprung free, hard and angry looking.

  
  


I tried to keep his eyes on me, but his arm flung over his face, his head arched back and his mouth opened in a silent scream as I put my lips around the head of his cock. His chest flushed red. His hips trembling underneath me.

  
  


I missed this. I missed the taste of him. I missed how responsive he was to my mouth. How the little flicks of my tongue made him shiver. How his breath hitched when I rolled my jaw just before I let him go.

  
  


Everything was slow and soft. Nice and wet. My mouth making embarrassingly sloppy sounds around him, whilst my hand moved down to tug at my dick whilst I held myself up on my elbow. I didn’t need hands. I could quite happily do this hands-free, swallow him down to the root as his hands tugged at my hair, mixing the sudden panic of breathlessness with the pain of him yanking hairs out of my head.

  
  


I pulled back, only for him to push me back down as my dick leaked precome like a faulty tap and the head of his cock filled the back of my throat. It was dizzying. The strong scent of him, the wiry pubes cradling my face and the firm hands pushing me further. I swallowed around him and pulled back. Breathed through my nose. Dove right back in as he roared above me. His shouts erratic and subdued.

  
  


I wished he would let go. I wished he would have screamed my name.

  
  


His hands pushed me down again. Holding me hard against his groin, his cock at the very back of my throat.

  
  


My eyes were watering. I coughed and spluttered. Choked on him as he let me go, pulling out and taking a noisy breath. I went straight back in. Swallowing him down then letting go. Back in. Tears rolling down my face as his hips jerked violently against me. His hips trying to fuck my mouth. His hands tugging at my hair as his voice gathered strength.

  
  


He panted. Moaned. Screeched out swear words like a man possessed.

  
  


I kept going.

  
  


‘’Fucking get off me if you don’t want a mouth-full!’’ He shouted.

  
  


I swallow him down again, with even more determination. I took his cock, hummed around the jerking movements. I tugged at myself desperately as I buried my nose in his pubes, breathing in the distinct scent of him. Drooling and crying as he finally did it. He screamed.

  
  


He screamed my name. Panted it out in ragged breaths, over and over again. Harry.

  
  


_ Harry Harry Harry _ .

  
  


My mind went blank and my ears were deafened by the static as I came into my hand. I couldn’t even taste him as he ejaculated deep far down my throat, his hips stuck in a spasm of pleasure arched off the bed. His softening cock still resting against my lips as I collapsed with my head on his stomach.

  
  


‘’I love you,’’ I croaked out, my voice hoarse and wrecked.

  
  


I shouldn’t have said it. I know it was wrong. But in that moment, it was the only thing I could say. I loved him. It was all true. I loved him and he needed to know that. That I was his. As he was mine.

  
  


I love him.

  
  


His hand was still stroking my head as I rested, exhausted and sated, my mouth burning from the effort. The back of my throat sore. My wrist aching from the awkward angle. My brain lost in a cloud of fuzz.

  
  


At some point he was tugging at me, dragging me up into his arms like a limp ragdoll. I willingly curled myself into his embrace, sighing contentedly as he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. He never said a word. Just held me with his face buried in my hair, as his breathing evened out.

  
  


For the first time in forever I had felt at peace. Like I was safe in this strange bubble we had created. Like there was hope in the world. I felt at home. I felt like this was what I had been waiting for my whole fucking life.

  
  


I love him. He came to me, and I loved him.

  
  


His hands had stroked my back, lazy little movements over my naked shoulder blades. I had tried to move my head a little, my neck getting stiff at the angle I was at, but he had jerked me back against his chest with a whimper. Like he couldn't bear to let me go.

  
  


I didn’t mind. I could have stayed there quite happily for the rest of my life.

  
  


I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, my hair damp from the moisture in his breath. His hands still roaming my back, small strokes of his fingers tickling my neck.

 

When I woke up he was gone. He hadn’t even left a note.

 


	12. How dare you.

**_‘’How dare you.’’_ **

**_LOUIS_ **

 

 

I had gone too far again. I knew I shouldn’t have gone there. I should have stayed away from Harry Styles. I should have let him live his carefree happy life, full of flowery shirts and organic raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake ice cream.

  
  


I should have let him be.

  
  


Except I hadn’t. I had been selfish and stupid and now... Well, Harry hadn’t been back to work in weeks.

  
  


I had even asked. Skulked around the back of the restaurant like some stalker until I could get Tess alone and pretended I needed Harry’s signature on some paperwork.

  
  


She had just stood there and stared at me, her face twisted in disgust.

  
  


‘’How dare you.’’ she had snarled. ‘’Don’t you fucking go anywhere near him again.’’

  
  


Oh.

  
  


It had dawned on me then. Well what was new. Gossip travelled fast, and now everyone beyond the reception desk knew I for a fact that I was an arsehole. A self-centred dick. A user.

  
  


Yet Harry didn’t come back. He was on extended sick leave. Something about the flu that turned into an extended stay somewhere up North.

  
  


He didn’t come back.

  
  


I ached. I hurt for him. I couldn’t believe I had been so careless. Not only had I hurt him. Well, I had probably broken him. Pushed him over the edge.

And in the process, I had hurt myself. Let my heart splinter into a million little pieces.

 

He had said he loved me.

  
  


I couldn’t let that happen.

 

I had been 18 the first time another man told me he loved me, and I had been willing to follow him to the end of the earth. He had shattered my heart when I found him balls deep in a first-year student in my bed. I was an idiot. Gullible and easily led with no life experience, I had believed him, fallen for every carefully planted line.

  
  


It wasn’t the first time and it wasn’t the last. I had my heart broken enough times before I said “enough.” Before I took control and decided on some rules. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t live through another heartbreak. Another betrayal cutting up my fragile heart. So, I turned things around.

  
  


He had been right though, all along. I was hard. I was all prickles and angles and edges. There was nothing soft about me anymore. Then Harry had come along and started hacking away at everything I had carefully built, and made me think I could do this again. He had crumbled my walls, one by one until I had been 18 again, screaming his name as I came down his throat.

  
  


He had told me he loved me, and it had taken everything out of me not to say it back. Because in that moment I had loved him too. I loved him more than he would ever know.

  
  


I had to leave, I had no choice. There wasn’t even the option of staying. I had crept out of that bed leaving him asleep in the rumpled mess of sheets, a tiny content smile on his swollen lips.

I know I hurt him. I know his heart would hurt, but I wasn’t worth it.

  
  


I would never be the man he needed, the strong person who could keep him safe and loved. I would grow older and harder, and become someone like my father. It was already imprinted in my genes.

  
  


My father was a respected man. He was silent and stern, with a firm belief in right or wrong. He didn’t believe in affection, or the kindness of words.

  
  


I was becoming more and more like my father every day, it was the destiny of my DNA. There was nothing I could do to stop it. And Harry didn’t deserve that. He deserved so much more. He needed warmth and cuddles and someone to make love to him.

  
  


He didn’t need a cold messed up man fucking his face until he cried.

  
  


It wasn’t just wrong. It was plain horrible.

  
  


Yet that Christmas day morning had been the single most wonderful morning of my life. It hadn’t even been about the sex, which by the way would probably have counted as the hottest sex ever in my pathetic book of sexual encounters, and it had only been a simple blow job. The most erotic act anyone had ever subjected me to. Which was a ridiculous notion. I had fucked, and been fucked. But that. That had been different.

 

Harry had given me everything. He had just taken the fucked up broken shell of me and he had made everything right. Calmed the storms in my head and made me feel.

  
  


He had made me fucking feel. And whilst I was drunk on being loved and protected, he had gone and planted that seed in my head that this could be something. That this could be right. That maybe I had a choice in this mess of a life I was living. He had given me an open door right into his heart.

  
  


And wasted on emotions, I had been sucked right through it. Then turned around and left.

There was nothing else I could have done.

 

 

It was nearly the end of January when I heard one of the chefs mention Harry in passing. A careless sentence thrown out to a group of co-workers.

Something about a pre-game on Friday, and that Harry was back in town.

 

I was a reasonable human being. I would stay away. As far away from Harry Styles as I could.

  
  


I had started applying for jobs, looking for posts abroad. Small town hotels where I could make my mark.

  
  


I couldn’t stay here.

  
  


Because I woke up every morning with this dull ache in my chest. I dreamt of featherlight kisses and strokes of my hair. I wanked furiously to video clips online, only to close my eyes before climaxing. All I could see was the most beautiful eyes on the planet and the perfect skin of the man I craved.

  
  


It was bewitching. Irresponsible. Dangerous.

I caught a glance of him one morning, standing there like he had never been gone. He looked up. I looked away.

  
  


I avoided him. He stayed out of my way.

I knew the solution was staring me right in my face. I would have to go. Obviously. Move. Leave London behind so I could get my sanity back. Because even the thought of living like this made my mouth fill with bile, yet my stomach would curl with nausea at the thought of walking away. From  _ him _ .

I had been here there before, and yes, I could easily get laid. Find someone to take my mind off him.

I just didn’t want anyone else. He had ruined me forever. He had shown me something I didn’t know I needed. I wanted him back. I needed him desperately.

  
  


But I needed to let him go. There would be someone out there who would love him. Who would hold him at night and keep him safe. All those things I could never do.

That person would never be me. Because I would never make him happy.  I had no idea how on earth I could.

 

I ran into him outside the staff canteen on a Thursday morning, him all fresh-faced and clear eyed, in a bright blue suit jacket I hadn’t seen before. Me an unkept mess, with my jacket open and my tie in my hand.

  
  


I was late for a meeting. He was just leaving, an empty paper cup resting in his hand.

  
  


He looked thinner than I remembered him. And there were faint dark circles under his eyes that only someone who knew him well would have noticed.

  
  


My first instinct was to grab him and shake him. Ask what the hell we were doing.

  
  


I came to my senses before acting like an idiot though, and let my arms fall to my sides with a sigh. I had no right to ask. No right to demand any answers.

  
  


He didn’t even speak. Just looked at me with so much hurt in his eyes that my heart felt like it would explode.

  
  


He let his shoulder nudge mine, hard, as he walked away from me. A final defiant blow.

  
  


We were over.

  
  


Unfortunately, my heart didn’t get the memo.

I stared at him shamelessly all day, as I stood behind the front desk, pretending to work when all I could see was him. The faint reflection of blue flashing past as he moved around the restaurant during the lunch service.

  
  


I made several completely unnecessary trips to the kitchen, asking ridiculous questions and double-checking orders I had no interest in. Just to catch a glance of him. Just to know he was there.

  
  


I told myself I was just worried. I told myself if was my responsibility to make sure that he was OK. That I hadn’t broken him too badly. I was hoping we could at least look at each other, but when his eyes caught mine I looked away.

  
  


It was too raw. And it was my heart that was broken.

  
  


On the Friday he wore the pink shirt he had worn the first time he kissed me. I couldn’t help thinking he was taunting me.

  
  


He stared at me from the pulpit stand outside the entrance to the restaurant. His hands were fiddling with papers but his eyes were firmly on me as I stacked magnetic key cards in neat little rows in front of me. There was no need for me to be out there at the front desk. I should have been in the back sorting out paperwork and running the staff rosters. I had a million things to do, yet I stood there all morning. Hoping for something. Hoping I would get some divine intervention to tell me what to do.

  
  


Of course, God had abandoned me long ago, my faith having disappeared down the drain long ago. It was just up to me. And if I was very honest with myself there was nothing left to fix.

He still managed to break me with a simple shrug of his shoulders. He ignored me, sending off a smile directed at one of his friends instead, as I walked past them at the end of the day.

  
  


He was leaning back against the wall of lockers, surrounded by the guys from the kitchen, that Mitch, the chef he was close to, Adam and a few of the waiters. I could hear them chatting, making plans for the weekend. I picked up the word ‘’club’’ as I hid behind the door to the changing rooms, a few crude suggestions being thrown around like they were overexcited immature teenagers.

  
  


I held my head high and walked past them to my locker, ignoring the silence that followed. Grabbed my jacket and pulled my beanie over my head. Dropped my glove on the floor as my hands shook fastening the padlock on the outside. The silence was eerie.

  
  


‘’So, we are all decided on a few beers at mine and then we head for ‘Medicine’? Is that the plan?’’ I recognized Mitch’s voice, loud and clear like he intended me to hear.

  
  


The others hummed in agreement, a few people voicing opinions on beers. Offering to bring snacks.

  
  


‘’Should be a good night, and I might finally get laid. It’s been too long. ‘’ That was Harry. His voice hitting like daggers in the back of my neck. I knew if I had turned around he would have been staring right at me.

  
  


He was playing a dangerous game. And I was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

  
  


 


	13. ''I love you, I love you , I love you,''

  ** _‘’I love you, I love you, I love you’’_**

  
  


**_MEDICINE Nightclub LONDON, January – HARRY_ **

  
  


The thumping music suddenly feels far too loud as I push him away from me and let go of the grip on his shirt. The crowd feels claustrophobic, and the air too thick to breathe. I have to get out of here.

  
  


I have to get away from him. Just the thought of what I just let happen has filled me with disgust. Not so much for him but for myself.

  
  


I can’t believe he had the nerve. I can’t believe he actually did it. And most of all I am fuming at myself for being so weak. For letting him. Because that surely wasn’t what I had intended to do.

  
  


I know I had baited him, and Tess had shot me a warning glance outside the changing rooms after the words had shot out of my mouth. Tess was my best friend. My confidante. The one who was always there to rein me in. Yet tonight she was nowhere to be found as I had let Louis fuck me into the wall.

  
  


I had wanted it. God yes. I had dreamt about it. Fantasised about him fucking me. About fucking him back.

  
  


Yet this had been wrong. It hadn’t even been about lust. This had been some kind of fucked up hate sex where I was broken hearted and he was…couldn't even begin to justify his behaviour. I didn’t understand him. I don’t understand him at all.

  
  


‘ _ Never again _ !’ I had shouted, and I damn well believed it as I grabbed my thick winter jacket from the wardrobe guy, slamming a 5 pound note down on the counter as he nodded at me. The security guard by the entrance barely acknowledged my presence as I fled out the door into the biting cold winter’s night, zipping my jacket up as I fished my phone out of my pocket.

  
  


‘’Harry. Come on.’’

  
  


I could hear him running behind me, a little bit out of breath and slipping in his posh shoes on the pavement. It was bloody freezing, the rain from earlier having frozen into random hard patches of ice. I couldn’t run. It would be ridiculous to even try, I thought to myself as I lost my footing again and stumbled into thin air.

  
  


His hand steadied me as he finally caught up. I wouldn’t look at him. I refused to acknowledge he was there, and upped my stride as he kept pace with me, still holding my arm in a firm grip.

  
  


‘’ Harry, stop.’’

  
  


I kept walking.

‘’Baby, stop.’’

  
  


‘’Don’t you dare call me that,’’ I snarled, my voice deep and gruff. I was fuming. How dare he. How fucking dare he?

  
  


He yanked my arm hard, almost making me lose my balance. I steadied myself with my hands against his chest, and he did exactly what I would have done.

  
  


See? He had picked up a few tips. Learned from the best. Because now he had me imprisoned, caught firmly in his embrace. My arms locked against his chest, and his face too close to mine. I refused to look at him. I refused to let him do this to me again.

  
  


‘’ I told you Louis. I can’t do this anymore. You fucking destroyed me. I could barely function after Christmas, when you just left. I can’t deal with you like this. I can’t.’’ My voice faltered. I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t even know where to start.

  
  


He leaned his forehead against my ear. Breathed. Grappled with my jacket as I tried to break free.

He wouldn't let me go, just held onto me like I was the last person on earth. Like he couldn’t have let go of me even if he had tried.

  
  


‘’I can’t do this Louis. I can’t let you hurt me, and then make me love you all over again. Because you will just leave me and I can’t do that. I can’t live like this.’’

  
  


The alcohol in my system didn’t help. I shouldn’t drink, it made me all emotional. But the tears streaming down my face were relentless, and I felt drunk on him. Wasted from having him back this close. I couldn’t have stopped the tears now even if I had had a gun to my head. Instead I wailed in distress as he rocked my body. Gripped onto the thick down in my coat, over and over again like he was trying to get a firmer grip on me. Trying to make sure I couldn’t get away.

  
  


But I needed to get away because I knew myself too well. He would hug me and reel me in until I believed every lie he was spouting. Every word that he would end up taking back. Then he would do what he had done from the start, leave me to lick my wounds until he pulled me in for another round of heartbreak.

  
  


I couldn’t do this anymore. However much my body was screaming for him to hold me. However much my fucked-up brain was  begging for him do what he had always done. Put his body against mine and make everything in the world right. Align the planets and calm the oceans and all that shit. Well it was all true. It happened whenever Louis Tomlinson let me close.

  
  


Then he would blow up my world like a fucking atomic bomb. Leave me sitting in the crater left of my life and I would have to try to reassemble myself back to a functioning human again. Alone.

  
  


I sobbed in self-pity against his shoulder. Let my face lean into his neck, overwhelming my senses with him just being him, as his lips kissed my hair. His hands still frantically trying to keep me close.

I couldn’t feel my feet in the stupid boots I was wearing. The wind was blowing right through my skinny jeans. And his teeth were clattering against my cheek.

  
  


‘’Can we please get out of here? Would you come home with me? Just to talk. Promise. You can leave anytime, and I promise I won’t leave you. I live there. I have nowhere else to go.’’ Louis’s voice was strong and in some fucked up way soothing.

  
  


I could tell he was trying to make a joke. Bring some light into this disastrous situation. I was 25 years old and I was crying in the street outside a nightclub like a child. Clinging to the man who just fucked me in public, when I should have been punching him in the face.

  
  


I whimpered in annoyance with myself as he led me towards the taxi rank on the corner. Pushed me into the backseat and rattled off his address to the driver, who cast a nervous glance at me.

  
  


‘’Extra charge 25 pounds if your mate does vomit in car’’ The driver sung in a thick accent.

  
  


‘’ No worries mate, my friend is not drunk. He is fine.’’ Louis replied and leaned over to fasten the seatbelt around my chest. Like I was a child. Like I couldn’t look after myself.

  
  


Well who was I kidding. Just look at me. I was right here where I had promised myself I wouldn’t be.

I was going to be strong. Tell him to fuck right off and leave me alone. I was never going to be weak again, and let him make me believe the fairy-tale. Because we had never had a ‘Once upon a time’ nor would we have a ‘Happily Ever After’. And this bloody fairy-tale was quickly descending into a medieval tragedy. All tears and snot and frostbitten toes.

  
  


I was still crying. Deep rooted sobs escaping from my chest as I opened my jacket so I could blow my nose on the hem of my t-shirt. I couldn’t care less that I was being a disgusting slob. He didn’t love me anyway.

  
  


He was right next to me looking out of the window as we moved through the West End traffic out towards the area where he apparently lived. Neat stacks of apartment blocks around mature trees and closed up shop fronts. The odd person hurrying home in the freezing night air. His profile lit up by the passing streetlights as the taxi made its way through the neighbourhood. Damp hair twisting behind his ears, as his hand moved up to wipe his eyes. There were wet streaks on his cheeks. Tears falling down his face.

  
  


Let him cry! The anger in me screamed. I had to bite my bottom lip to try to stop myself reaching out for him.

  
  


I had no control. I am a disaster. I am a grown up adult male and I couldn't speak up. Say the words. Tell him that this would never end well. That I should stay in the car and let the driver take me home.

  
  


Just let this end here. Let’s not hurt each other anymore. Let this be the last time.

Please just let me heal.

  
  


Instead I followed him out of the car like a lost sheep. Sighed with relief when he took my hand and walked me across the frosty grass towards the building where he lived.

A one bed apartment on the second floor, high ceilings framing the sofa littered with papers and discarded crockery. A TV left on in the corner. An unmade bed.

 

So, I find myself standing there in the doorway like an idiot, hugging my body through my jacket.

  
  


‘’Do you want tea?’’ he asks, leaning down to flick on the light by the sofa.

  
  


I shake my head. I don’t know what I want.

  
  


We just stand there like fools. Me staring at my feet. Him staring at me.

  
  


‘’I love you,’’ he says. Not casually. There is no shrug of his shoulders as I look up in shock.

  
  


‘’I love you,’’ he repeats. Looking straight at me, holding on to the back of the sofa. ‘’I think I have probably loved you since the first time I saw you. And it is killing me Harry. I have tried to fight it, I have tried everything to push you away. I can’t do it anymore. I love you. I need to be with you. I just don’t know how to make it right.’’

  
  


‘’You have a funny way of showing it,’’ I blurt out and immediately regret my words. Because he looks distraught.

  
  


‘’Please tell me what to do to make this right. I will do anything Harry. I am at the end of my rope here. I need you. God, I fucking need you. I want to sleep next to you every night. Walk home holding your hand. Drink wine with you on the sofa and make you coffee in the mornings. And I want to fuck you into the mattress every single night. Not because I can, but because we love each other. Because you want me to. I hope. ‘’

  
  


He looks terrified. Desperate. His fingers scratching at the coarse fabric of the sofa. Loud scratches that drive me crazy. Scratch.

  
  


_ Scratch Scratch Scratch _ .

  
  


I can’t think. I can’t think of anything to say.

  
  


‘’Please say something baby. Please. Just talk to me.’’ He pleads.

  
  


I have never seen him this distraught. I have seen Louis Tomlinson cry, but not like this, with tears running down his face and his body convulsing in sobs.

  
  


‘’Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me again.’’ I whimper.

 

It’s all my mouth can say. My hands shake as I take my jacket off and let it drop to the floor. I toe my boots off, wincing in pain as my frozen toes land on the hard-wooden floors.

  
  


He meets me halfway. Both of us moving slowly, not daring to make any sudden moves.

He leans his head on my shoulder. Dribbles snot and tears all over my t-shirt.

I rip it off over my head. Bunch it up in my hand and grip his chin so I can wipe away his tears with the soft white cotton.

  
  


‘’Don’t hurt me,’’ I whisper.

  
  


‘’ I will try to change. I will try to be a nicer person,’’ he promises, his face eager and his eyes full of hope.

  
  


‘’ I don’t want you to change Louis. I just need you to be mine. To be my partner. My friend. My lover. The one I can trust. That’s all. I just need you to be you.’’

  
  


I’m rambling. Spouting sentences out of my mouth as he kisses me into silence. Long heady kisses as his fingers pull at my hair. My arms tight around his back.

  
  


He pushes me down on his bed, making no attempt to remove our clothes. He just lays his head on my bare chest, and draws lazy circles with his fingertips around the ink staining my skin, as my hand strokes his back. We just lie there in silence as my brain hurls abuse at my heart. My heart that won’t stop bleeding.

  
  


‘’I love you,’’ he whispers. ‘’I love you, I love you, I love you.’’

  
  


I wrap my arms around him and squeeze as tight as I can.

  
  


‘’I love you too. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I love you Louis.’’

  
  


It’s a dangerous game we are playing. And it’s almost light outside by the time I finally fall asleep.

 


	14. EPILOGUE ''I want to give him his own world''

**_EPILOGUE - LOUIS - ONE YEAR LATER_ **

  
  


**_‘’I want to give him his own world’’_ **

  
  


It is going to take a long time for him to learn to trust me, I know that. I know how he panics in the morning thinking I am not there. I see the worry in his eyes when he doesn’t quite know where he stands. I know I messed him about. I know I hurt him.

  
  


I never want to live like that again, so I have made some new rules. Some good solid life lines that I hold onto. Like the fact that I tell him I love him. Every fucking day. I say it in public when we walk down the street. I say it when I hold his hand walking home at night. I say it before we go to sleep. And I shout it when I fuck him. When he blows my mind. When I let him take me and make me his.

  
  


I am learning to let go and not be so rigid in the way I live my life. It’s not easy but the smiles help.

  
  


People smile at me at work now. Not all the time, but I notice. I notice the laughter, when Bleta nudges my shoulder. How Eleanor smiles at me when I am lost in my head, remembering something Harry said. I even tell them. Ramble out embarrassing domestic little stories of Harry cooking me breakfast and me spilling coffee in the bed because he is so fucking cute in the mornings.

  
  


Hell, even Tess will talk to me now. Nod at me when we pass across the lobby floor. Smile when I drag Harry through the kitchen doors so I can steal a kiss in the middle of the lunch service.

  
  


It’s not professional. It’s not the done thing. It’s not the role model I should be to the other staff. I don’t give a fuck.

  
  


I am happy. I am so fucking happy.

  
  


We are not perfect, not by far. He doesn’t trust in me, that I will stay. He doesn’t dare believe that this is forever. I know he worries. I know he thinks that one day I will get sick of his childish pranks, his ridiculous over the top ideas. The colourful eccentric clothing he buys from the charity shop in town. The over the top suits and loud shirts. He thinks he is too much. Too wild. Too much him. Too colourful in his skin with the eccentric collection of tattoos that adorn his body.

 

I tell him we even each other out. We fit. He balances the grey dullness in me. The carefree child I never got to be. The wild spirited teenager I never got to meet. I let myself live through him. Laugh at the things that come out of his mouth. Revel in his ridiculousness. Drown in the love he carries in his heart.

  
  


He worries. He always worries. So, I tend to wake him up before I go to work, if he is sleeping in to be ready for a late shift. I kiss his head and stroke his cheek, rousing him carefully until his eyes are blinking into the soft light from the bedside table. I make sure he knows I am still here. Every morning. And that I always will be. Because where on earth would I go? If he wasn’t with me?

  
  


‘’Hi baby’’ I whisper to him and plant a tiny kiss on his nose. And another on his forehead. A soft one on his lips.

  
  


‘’Hi,’’ he mumbles and nuzzles deeper into the pillow, a content little smile on his face.

‘’I’m off. I will see you later ok? Go back to sleep. Ring me when you wake up. Love you.’’ I lean over and kiss him again. Press my hand onto his head, just feeling his hair under the palm of my hand. Giving him a final stroke. Memorizing what he looks like lying in my bed.

  
  


It’s been almost a year. A year of trying to accept the fact that I can be me. That I can turn this around. That there is hope.

  
  


A year of waking up every fucking morning knowing that he loves me. Because he does, and he is so damn good at loving me. I am learning to love him better too, and I am slowly figuring out that life doesn’t have to be so hard. That I can let him see me, with all my faults and doubts on display, and it’s OK.

  
  


I still get stressed. I still curl up into myself and shoot daggers at the world around me. But he still loves me. I know that now.

  
  


He loves me when I shout. When I throw stuff around the flat and never pick them back up. He loves me when I take him for granted. He loves me when I lose my shit and scream in frustration.

  
  


He still moved in with me. Turned up one day with his suitcase and a box under his arm and told me he was staying. That this back and forth just wouldn’t cut it anymore.

  
  


I put his flat up for rent that very afternoon, whilst he booked a van to bring his sofa over, and sold his bed on an online site.

  
  


It had seemed like such a big thing, a life-changing hurdle that I had been frightened to bring up. But he had climbed into bed with me that evening, and told me this was it. We were never going to be alone again. Because he had me and I had him.

  
  


He can be a child. An irresponsible human being with no sense at all. He has grand ideas that come to nothing, yet will pursue things with a stubbornness that borders on inhumane.

  
  


Yet he loves me. I still smile every time I remember. He loves me.

  
  


We talk about having our own place one day. A country mansion we can build up from scratch.

  
  


Beds and breakfasts and locally sourced food, with a spa and country walks. Somewhere people can come to clear their heads and try to heal their minds. Maybe find a little bit of heaven, in a reasonable commute from London. Of course. Because we need to have clients, however annoying it will be to have other people in the perfect little corner we sit and plot out at night, running calculations and budgets, trying to figure out if we dare to take the jump. Give up on our jobs. Take a leap of faith in ourselves and just do it.

  
  


I haven’t told him about the house I saw online. The rambling farmhouse with the collection of workers cottages. It’s set in a clearing on the coast, in need of masses of work, but the main house has parts that are habitable for now. We could live there during the renovations. We could even do some of the work ourselves. The scenery is stunning. The price leaves room to move.

  
  


We can do it. I know we can.

  
  


I’m 31 years old, and Harry turned 26 this year. I made him a cake from a packet. Put a childish candle on the top and promised him the world.

  
  


He kissed the tip of my nose and said I had already given him the world. Because I was his world.

  
  


The thought makes me smile as I dial the number for the estate agents.

  
  


I want to give him his own world. I want to give him the fucking universe.


	15. Artwork by @tomlinshires on Tumblr

 artist credit:  <http://tomlinshires.tumblr.com/>  Please do not reproduce without permission. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this! Please go and show my amazing artist some love on her tumblr! 
> 
> http://tomlinshires.tumblr.com/
> 
> I mainly write fics for the SKAM fandom, but have dabbled in original Larry stories before, they are all here on Ao3. 
> 
> Again massive thanks to @vintagevinyl / @tomlinshires for working with me on this and bearing with me! xxxx


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